The Best Deceptions
by dontmissthis
Summary: Maura Isles, Princess of Vatra, is promised to the savage Rizayan clan's leader for her own safety. But will this new life be as terrifying and barbarous as she had originally thought, or will she find love and someone that truly quells her loneliness in the most unexpected place?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, blah blah. **

**A/N: A story line in Game of Thrones made me loosely think of Jane/Maura. The places in this are completely made up and the characters besides the R&I ones are my own. I suppose this would be considered more of a fantasy world with medieval themes, but then again…not really? It's hard to explain. But it would **_**not**_** get out of my head…so here it is.**

* * *

The sun is hot as it beams down upon her, but she sits completely still, facing south, as her servant dabs the beads of sweat from her temple with a damp cloth. The silken fabric of her light blue garment is beginning to slightly stick to her skin and, for once, she is glad for wearing the backless dress as the weak wind lightly pricks against her bare arms and the flesh of her back on the open balcony.

"Mother," she starts as her eyes sweep the barren horizon beyond the walls once more, "When is he due to be here?"

Constantine—dressed in a deep gold dress to match the crown on her dark hair—passes her empty goblet of wine off to a servant and then turns to face her daughter. "He?"

The slight breeze blows small curls around her face, and her brow scrunches curiously. "Yes…The Amadi?"

Her mother shakes her head.

"The Amadi is no man, my dear," Constantine says, reaching out to tuck a piece of her daughters golden hair neatly under the thin crown that, hopefully, would soon no longer be adorning her head.

Maura's brow furrows deeper. The books in her father's study had never given a description of the leader—or had held much information of _anything_ about this clan to be honest—but all leaders of all kingdoms are men. That is the way; that is a _fact_. And because of that, there had never been a need to ask for a description or think otherwise.

But now the panic starts to creep through her at her mother's words. And it's not that she's scared of leaving her home—in fact, she welcomes it. She had never been accepted here. Never felt deeply rooted here. But there are beasts and creatures in this country that she could not—_would not_ allow herself to be given to, and there's a chance her parents have arranged just that for the greater good of the people.

She takes a deep breath to maintain her façade of calmness, and looks into her chalice as she swirls around the deep ruby liquid. "Then…what would it be categorized as?"

"The Amadi is a woman," Constantine replies, her face calm and unemotional—trained to give away nothing.

Her head instantly jerks up from the chalice in shock. "You mean to say…you've promised me to a woman?"

Taking a grape off the platter carried by her, Constantine flippantly shrugs. "That's the Rizayan way, darling."

It wasn't uncommon—or even frowned upon—for people to commit to those of the same sexes in the kingdoms, but never for those in noble standing. Heirs were expected to be produced, after all.

She struggles to maintain her breathing. From a young age, she had always imagined being wed in an ivory dress, followed by a feast in a banquet hall, and eventually sitting upon the throne as queen in one of The Greater Kingdoms with a _somewhat_ tolerable king at her side.

Granted, that's not what she _wanted,_ per say,but it is what she had always pictured for herself.

It's a shock to go from picturing that to being lead into the complete opposite.

"But that is not _our_ custom," she finally manages to reply, still deeply stunned that no one had even mentioned this in the months since the arrangement.

"And you'll no longer be one of us, my child." Constantine shifts on her ornately decorated chair—her face now completely serious as she faces her daughter. "You must do exactly as they do. To keep the peace."

She worries at her lip with her teeth. "I know, Mother. But th—"

Her words are cut off by a guard walking onto the balcony. His armor is plated in silver so shiny that it's easy to see her own reflection in it; the green and white Isles' crest prominent in the middle of the chest plate. Beads of sweat fall from his brow as he bows to them both before standing stock-straight, one hand resting on his sword. "The Rizayans, Your Majesty. They have arrived."

Looking back towards the south, she sees them—hundreds of them—riding up towards the gates from the Fire Land on their horses. Even from here, she can see that the wooden transports and carriages are pulled by some of the largest and strongest men and women she has ever seen.

She looks back to Constantine with wide eyes, and her mother plasters on her best diplomatic smile. "Come on, darling. Your people await."

* * *

"Maura Isles, daughter of King Benedict Isles from the Kingdom of Vatra," the Herald announces as she steps through the front archway of their castle.

Her people—_former_ people—stand crowded along the main stairway as she descends down them with the King and Queen two steps behind her. She's sweating more now from nervousness as she approaches the largest, jet-black horse she has ever seen—standing at least a foot taller than the rest. The rider's hair is just as black and long and wild, and her muscles ripple as she drops from the horse to stand in front of where Maura stops.

She's wearing clothes so unlike their own—a leather bandeau covers her breasts, her abs bare, a short leather warrior's skirt covers her thighs. The minimum clothing to show the maximum skin—the maximum _muscle _and scars she possesses to threaten any enemies.

The woman looks dangerous; _wild_, but Maura can't bring herself to look away.

There's a tension-filled moment of silence—from _everyone_, including the crowd— as the woman looks down at her with a brow scrunched with scrutiny. Maura licks her lips and goes to speak, but in that moment as she looks into the dark eyes staring back at hers, the few words of the foreign language she has learned escape her.

Finally, the tanned and toned woman reaches out and gently pulls the silver crown from her head and holds it out to Constantine behind her. Maura takes in a ragged breath—unclear if this is a good or very bad sign. The Rizayans are not to be crossed, and she's almost terrified that she's already done something to offend them.

"I kutoa chake taji ya," the woman says as Constantine takes the coronet.

A woman with a tender face, younger than she, steps up from behind the Rizayan leader with a light smile that reaches her blue eyes. "She said she is going to give you the crown of _our_ people now."

She releases a shaky breath followed by the smallest smile. Not because she's incredibly happy about being accepted, no, but because she's glad she hasn't been a failure for her old and new people alike.

"Thank you, Amadi," she replies, bowing her head slightly.

The Amadi reaches out with two fingers and places them under her chin, lifting until Maura is looking directly up at her before saying something in the foreign tongue.

"She wants to know," the young woman translates from beside them, "if you would like to ride with her to camp for the night, or ride on your own."

She tentatively looks to the large black stallion the leader had ridden in on, and back to expectant brown eyes waiting for an answer. "My own," she quietly says. "Please."

The Amadi yells something out loudly enough for all of her hundreds of people to hear—a way of showing her power and leadership and the devotion of her people. Immediately, men and women pull seven horses to line up in front of them. None are as large as the jet-black one the other woman had ridden in on, but all are magnificent in their own way—different colored coats and manes and saddles alike.

"She says to take your pick," the young woman says. "And it will be yours always."

Her eyes scan the row of horses in front of her. A brown one, a spotted one, a solid white one, a…_silver _one? Silver mane and silver coat and silver hooves.

Never in all of her studies had she ever read or seen any mention of silver horses. Gray, but never silver. Her brow furrows and she turns back to look at her parents—whose expressions match her own—before turning back and walking towards it curiously.

She runs her hand down its muzzle and pulls it back to look at her palm—no silver had flaked off on her skin or rubbed off the horse in any way. It's no trickery; but true to color and unlike anything ever seen before.

Maybe she actually could learn more from this supposedly savage clan than she had originally thought.

Looking over her shoulder to the young woman, she smiles—truly smiles for the first time as she strokes the silver horse's mane. "May I have this one?"

And before she knows it, strong hands are clamped around her waist and she's hoisted into the air and gently placed on the saddle. She looks down to the dark haired leader in surprise—with a shiver tingling delightfully down her spine.

She may be light, but to be lifted in to the air so easily? Truly a feat of strength.

The Amadi leaps up onto her own stallion in one smooth movement and grabs the reins in her hands. Before they start their long journey across the Fire Lane, she looks over to Maura—their new Queen; their Enzana—and smiles for the first time. It's small and tight-lipped, but it's genuine and reaches her dark eyes.

And as they ride off to the sound of a cheering crowd, although the Rizayans are dead silent, Maura can't seem to look away from the ferociously beautiful woman beside her.

* * *

**I already have five chapters written. I just want to know if this is going to garner any interest before I waste time writing more. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow! I was not expecting so much response! Thank you so much. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

They had only ridden two hours before the grassy land gave way to the hot and barren Fire Land desert with sand so white the glare physically hurts the eyes. She reaches up with one hand to wipe the sweat from her brow as they continue to ride at the slow pace which she is sure is solely for her sake.

The Amadi shifts her horse close enough to hold out a soft, silken cloth to her. "Hot, isn't it?"

Her head tilts, forehead furrowing. "You know the common language?"

"Who _doesn't_ know it?"

She pushes back some of the sweaty strands of hair from her face, and licks her parched lips. "Why did you speak none before?"

"Were you…" The woman pauses, searching for the right words as she looks back towards the desert. "Intimidated?"

"Yes," she replies honestly. She had never been so intimidated or borderline terrified in all her life as she was when she was looking up at the woman who held her future in her hands.

The Amadi barks out a quick laugh. "Then that's why."

"That wasn't very kind," she whispers with a frown.

"Well we aren't known for being nice," the woman replies with a smirk, her hair slightly billowing as they ride. "Wanna know a secret?"

She looks up, inquiringly—unsure if this is some joke or in all seriousness. She's never been good at telling the difference anyway.

"Yes," she finally replies.

"Learn our language," The Amadi starts and points over her shoulder, "And they might actually start to like you."

She glances back towards the hundreds behind them, before looking back to Jane. "Will you teach me?"

"No."

"But—"

"There's no time for questions right now," the woman cuts off, firmly. "We need to set up camp before your skin burns even more. You're white as milk."

She gasps and starts to protest, but then the woman reaches out and pulls her shoulder strap aside just far enough to show the contrasting color of where her skin had been shaded. "See? You're not ready to be in the sun for so long."

Her eyebrow raises, and she shift to sit straighter on the horse. "If you're insinuating that I did nothing but sit inside all day for my 23 years, then you are mistaken."

The woman drops from the horse and looks up at her with a glint in her eyes. "Your pasty skin says otherwise," she smirks—teasingly, Maura thinks—before leading everyone over to set up the camp.

* * *

Even she, who was used to growing up with men that would give everything they had to fulfill her every request, was surprised at how quickly they had built camp for a gathering of two hundred people. Hers tent, surprisingly, had been erected first and was only belittled by that of the feasting tent.

She had been urged to go inside immediately to get out of the sun and rehydrate herself, and she had been surprised by the contents of what would seem to be a ragged shelter. The inside was spacious and held a bed covered in thick bear skin blankets, a chair that was easily made of finer wood than some from her own castle, ornate rugs from different kingdoms, a metal firepit placed in a corner for warmth should she become cold.

But that was hours ago and the sun had already set, and she was doing nothing but pacing around the tent out of boredom and uncertainty. Is she allowed to leave her tent? Ask for more food? Should she go see Amadi? Try to learn more about her? About this culture?

These customs and traditions are different than her own, and she knows absolutely no one. Not really, anyway. And she hates being unsure, so unknowledgeable of something. So feeling like this…this is not something she is comfortable with in the least.

Right as her eyes start to water, the tent door flaps open and, startled, she jumps and then quickly turns to see the Amadi standing in front of her with an unreadable face, but a playful glint in her eyes.

The woman walks to the table and picks up a pouch to begin pouring a dark, maroon liquid into a chalice. "Wanataka baadhi myvinyo?"

Her eyes snap up from the crystal glass and she shakes her head. "Pardon?"

"Myvinyo?" She repeats, holding the wine towards Maura.

"Are you not going to use the common tongue?"

"You need to learn my language," Amadi states, taking a drink of the wine Maura had refused. "Don't use yours unless it's in private now."

Her brow knits. "Why not?"

"To keep you safe," the dark haired woman says as she walks over to stand in front of her. "I wasn't trying to be mean earlier. I just…You're foreign and my people don't trust easily. The sooner you are like them, the better it'll be for you."

Her eyes flick from the woman's lips to dark eyes. "But if you aren't going to teach me, how am I to learn? No one else will talk to me without looking down at their feet!"

Jane laughs at the slight outburst.

"At sunrise, I'll send someone. She'll teach you all that you need to know to stand by my side," she says, reaching out to lightly touch Maura's cheek. "To be liked. To be called a true Rizayan."

Her eyes well up with tears once again. _To be liked._ What she wouldn't give to be liked.

She nods and tries to graciously smile and pull back her emotions into her trained, calm demeanor. "Thank you, Amadi."

The woman smiles fully at that and drops her hand from Maura's cheek. "Why do you always call me that?"

"Because it's your title," Maura says with a tilted head.

"And your title is now Enzana, but I can call you Maura, can't I?"

She tentatively nods. "If that's what you prefer."

"It is," the woman reaches out and tucks one of the light hairs that's slipped from Maura's braids back behind her ear. "You're my wife now, Maura. I know you may not want to be, but what's done is done," she pauses, her dark eyes studying Maura's face closely before dropping her hand once again. "Call me Jane now."

The ceremony and feast were to be later, but as of now…she was already Jane's wife in the Rizayan sense of the word. And of that, she had almost forgotten. There were duties to be done; universal duties that even the Rizayans surely adhere to.

"Yes, Jane," she finally whispers, her gaze holding strong with Jane's own.

Then she does what she thinks is expected and pushes the dress straps off her shoulders. The fabric pools around her feet leaving her completely, starkly naked in the fire-lit room. Jane's eyebrows shoot up and then, she takes one step back and starts to slowly circle her over and over, reaching out every so often to lightly touch her back, her arm, her stomach.

Jane finally comes to a stop in front of her, eyes soft as she reaches out to tilt Maura's face up. "Nohealani," she says, and starts gently walking Maura back towards the bed. "A beauty from the gods."

It was not the first time she had been complimented for her beauty—far from it—but it had never been said so genuinely before; the compliment had never instantly made her blood burn hot and rush to her face, never made her lips part in an attempt to drink in the words and savor them.

The backs of her knees hit the firm mattress and she lies back upon it with a small gasp, surprised when Jane only starts to pull a bear skin blanket over her naked body.

Jane smiles at her slight confusion and reaches up to smooth the wrinkled from her forehead. "It gets cold at night when your skin is burnt."

It only adds to her confusion and she tilts her head. "We aren't going to have sex?"

Jane drops her head and tries not to laugh at the bluntness; the bewilderment clearly written on Maura's face. "Is that what you _really_ want to do tonight? With someone you hardly know?"

"I…" The words her mother spoke ring clear in her head. _Keep the peace_. "Whatever pleases you."

"That's courteous, Maura, but doesn't answer my question," Jane starts, looking back up in solemnity. "I may be considered barbaric, but I won't do anything until _you_ are ready."

She looks into the dark eyes and sees the compassion, the honestly. Tender and kind. She rests her head back against the pillow—relieved. With any other arrangement it wouldn't have matter what she had or had not have wanted. Her opinion wouldn't even have been asked.

Jane then stands to go and she quickly reaches out to grab a tan, rough hand in slight panic. "You're not staying?"

"I have two of my best guards outside," Jane replies, squeezing her hand as she looks down at her. "You'll be safe."

She looks around the dim room; the foreignness. She swallows thickly before looking up at her new wife. "Promise?"

Jane immediately looks taken aback by someone not trusting her word—probably the first person who never has and lived to tell about it—before covering it with a gentle smile. "Yeah, you'll be safe." Jane bends down, lightly kissing her forehead before pulling back. "Sleep well, nohealani."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Wow, you guys. That's really all I have to say. Your responses have blown my mind. Thank you!**

* * *

A loud clanking startles her awake and she sits straight up on the bed—holding the blanket to her chest. A girl—the same translator she had met yesterday—looks up with a grimace as she sets the metal tray down on the table and hurries to pick up the fallen candle holder. "I'm sorry, Enzana. Normally I—"

"It's okay," she interrupts, taking even breaths to calm herself. "I just wasn't expecting someone to come so early."

"Amadi said to bring you food for strength and tend to your burns as soon as possible," the girl says, carrying over a rose colored, thin and flowy dress like the blue one she had been wearing the before. "Would you like to wear this or something from our garment makers?"

She looks at the rose, silken dress and bites her lip. _Be like the people. _

But this was the finest silk from Gargantu, and covered more of her skin than anything the Rizaryans had been wearing. Her _milky skin_ surely wouldn't like that much exposure to the desert sun.

"What do you think she would rather me wear…?"

"Rileta." The girl grins. "And I think Amadi would like you in _whatever_ you choose."

Smiling, she lightly blushes and takes the dress from the girl's fingers. "I'll wear this for today then."

"Good choice," Rileta says, turning to give her privacy. "She also requested that I help you with the language?"

She climbs from the bed, and starts to pull the soft garment over her sensitive reddened skin. "I tried to learn it from my father's books, but it was very…vague."

"We are from a very secretive place."

"Why?"

"If everyone knew everything about us," the girl starts, turning back around with a small, golden container in her hands, "do you think we would win as many battles?"

She shakes her head. "No, I'd say not. It would be detrimental for other's to know your defenses."

"Exactly. And," the girl continues, following closely behind her as she walks to the chair in the middle of the room, "if people knew where it was like where we are from, they would try to seize it from us much more frequently."

Maura tilts her head as she sits. "Why would they do that?"

"You may think of us as savage, but where we are from is not. Dare I say it's even nicer than Vatra."

Against her nature as it is, she nearly scoffs. Vatra was one of the _nicest _of the few Greater Kingdoms, and where they were going wasn't even considered as one of the Greater Kingdoms at all.

She raises a brow. "It lies on the edge of the Fire Land and it's nicer than Vatra?"

"Don't be so quick to judge things you know_ nothing_ about," the girl sharply says, before going completely still and bowing her head. "Forgive me, Enzana. I shouldn't have said that."

"I'm simply curious," she replies in an attempt to keep the conversation going. "No one knows much about Faraha."

"Like I said, we are very secretive." The young girl softly laughs and walks around behind her; gently starting to rub the cooling lotion on her reddened shoulders. "But when you are sitting upon a throne of gold with diamonds woven in your hair and people bowing at your feet, you won't be so skeptical."

She closes her eyes to try to picture it—make a new dream to replace the old—she really does…but all she can think of is being at home on the silver throne in The Great Room of Vatra. And although she expects the thought to invoke a pang of homesickness, it surprisingly never comes.

The tray of food in front of her is covered in more meats and breads than she could possibly eat, and though it would make a great dinner, it's much too early for such a heavy meal. Yet another thing about this culture she will have to adapt to.

Instead, she pours herself a small goblet of the rich wine and leans slightly forward as the girl rubs more ointment upon her back. "Can you tell me why Jane is The Amadi?"

"What do you mean?"

She takes a sip of the wine. "She's a woman. Amadi means king, correct?"

"It is not based on what's between the legs but strength, Enzana." The girl walks in front of her and drops to her knees to rub the lotion on her neck. "Amadi can beat any of these men if she tried, and they all know it. There has never been any dispute that she deserves it."

She idly starts to pick apart a roll. "Is she the first woman to become the Amadi?"

"No, Enzana. But she was the youngest to be granted the title."

"How old was she?"

"Fifteen."

"Hmm," she hums. She had been under the impression that Jane had not been the leader long since she had just now gotten a spouse. And though she's known younger to claim the throne—none were by earning it through strength like Jane has. "How old is she now?"

The girl stands and walks behind her to comb out the tangles the wind and sleep had caused her light hair. "Twenty-seven."

Her eyebrows both rise. Jane certainly doesn't look twenty-seven. "And she's never lost?"

"Never, Enzana," Rileta answers. "And I dare say she'll never lose until the great death comes. She won't give up otherwise."

"She seems to be very determined," she says, taking another sip of the wine. Licking her lips at the taste, she realizes this spirit rivals the quality of the kind from the cellars of her home. Oddly enough…it's actually better "Where's this from? Bemuth?"

"The wine is from Faraha," Rileta replies. "My husband works in the vineyard."

She turns to slightly look over her shoulder with a furrowed brow. "I thought your women married women?"

"Not all," Rileta sets the brush down. "But The Amadi _must_ marry their own kind."

"Why?"

"So many questions, Enzana!" Rileta laughs. Her fingers nimbly start to twist Maura's hair into gentle, soft curls. "It's said that being married to your own kind is like finding your twin spirit. The strongest bond of all bonds. And since we've never lost, I say it must be true."

Maura turns back around to face forward, the sight of the meat mixed with the already-sweltering heat suddenly making her scrunch her nose. She really wishes she had been able to learn about the culture and traditions before being thrown right in the middle of it. She does have so many questions and curiosities—a deep need for her thirst for knowledge to be quenched.

"What happens if she _does_ lose?" She asks after a while, hoping that enough time had passed that Rileta would not tire of talking to her.

Rileta laughs good-naturedly. She knew this one was not going to be quiet long. "I told you she wouldn't lose without giving her life."

"No," Maura reiterates. "What happens to _me_?"

"All done," is the quick reply as Rileta gives her hair a pat and starts to back from the room.

"But what …" She turns, only to see a mischievous smile on the girls face as ducks under the flap of the tent door—leaving her question unanswered and feeling quite alarmed.

* * *

Less than an hour later, she's summoned to Jane's tent. It's not nearly as large as hers and definitely not as ornately decorated inside or out, but in the middle lies a table covered with fruits and cheeses—with Jane sitting at one of the chairs with a grin on her face. "They said you didn't eat," she starts, standing to pull out the chair beside her own. "They should've known the Northerners don't eat meats in the morning. Idiots."

She smiles and takes the offered seat. "It's quite alright."

"Don't let it happen again. You tell them what you want or they won't respect you," Jane says, reaching out and taking an apple to toss up and down.

"Of course," Maura nods. She reaches out and takes a blackberry; idly rolling it between her fingers as silence looms between them. Looking up, she studies Jane's profile. The strong lines of her jaw, her cheek bone, her nose. Even in Vatra where such features would be considered brusque and manly, Jane would be considered stunning.

The arrangement, she realizes, could've been far worse. Jane is beautiful and—based off the events of last night before she slept—can be gentle and kind when she wants to be. Comforting, even. And that's a rarity for any ruler, especially one known for ferocity.

Her childhood dreams may not have come true, but maybe, just _maybe_ her reality is going to shape up to be much better than anything she could've imagined.

She wipes the purple stains on her finger pads off with a napkin, and asks the only thing she can think of to break the silence. "What happens to me if you should ever lose a battle?"

Jane slowly looks up with a solemn, stoic face. "They'll send your head back to Vatra in a box."

Her eyes grow wide, and Jane immediately bursts into a wholehearted, all-consuming laughter at Maura's expression. "Haven't you heard of a joke?"

"Y-yes," she stutters as she tries to regain composure. "I'm just not very good at detecting them."

"Oh," Jane says, her laughter dying down as to not offend Maura further. "Well if I die, you're free to do what you want. Go home. Stay. Marry someone else. Whatever you want to do." Then she slightly narrows her eyes. "Why? Plan on killing me?"

Wide-eyed, she shakes her head. "No! Rileta—"

"Made it sound like you were to die as well, didn't she? What a little shit." Jane smirks, biting into the apple. "She likes you then. She jokes around with the people she likes."

Maura involuntarily smiles brighter than she has in a long time. Not many people had ever genuinely liked her—almost none, actually, besides the servants and handmaidens that had been paid to like her. She had always been an outsider, even born in nobility where people should have at least _pretended_ to be her friend.

Trying to hide her smile, she looks down at her plate. "She does?"

"Yep," Jane replies, smiling at the damn near adorable grin on her wife's face. She reaches out and toys with the end of Maura's honey-gold curls. "She did your hair?"

She nods, trying to ignore the way her face heats up at the light graze of Jane's fingertips against her shoulder.

"Looks good on you," Jane says, honestly. "They'll like it."

"Do _you_ like it?" Maura timidly asks, tilting her head only slightly to look out the corner of her eye.

Jane grins, "I do. And if you keep wearing that," she sweeps her hand towards Maura's dress, "all the ladies will want something like it. Gargantu silk?"

Her eyebrow rises and her lips curl up into a grin, pleasantly surprised. "How did you know?"

"I'm not as uncultured as you think," Jane teases, reaching out to nudge her shoulder. "Want to know a secret?"

"Only if it's a good one," she replies, smiling. "Your last one lacked intrigue."

Laughing, Jane leans in, her hot breath tickling Maura's ear. "The Gargantu buy their silk from _my_ city."

"Oh," she shivers, trying to keep her facilities in check as Jane pulls away.

Jane smirks, tucking a strand of hair behind Maura's ear. "Don't believe me, nohealani?"

She smiles at the nickname, and gently shakes her head. "I've been to Gargantu and have seen them make the silk with my own eyes."

Jane cocks an eyebrow. "But did you see where it went?"

"I…no."

"They silk they weave goes to the commoners." She reaches out and touches the side of Maura's dress; the fabric slipping easily from her fingers. "But this? Straight from Faraha. You can have as many made in every color you could possibly imagine when we arrive."

She tilts her head, grinning in an attempt to beat Jane in her own game. "Why does no one here wear silk then?"

"We are in the middle of the desert!" Jane exclaims. "Can't very well fight in that, can we?"

"I suppose not..."

"You still don't believe we aren't dirt poor? Alright then." Jane abruptly stands and walks across the room, only to come back with a flattened box that she sets in Maura's lap. "Open it."

Her fingers reach down and, with inquiring eyes, she slowly lifts the lid to see a golden necklace with the largest sapphire stone set on gold that she has ever seen. She gently picks up to inspect it. It's shiny and clear, true to being real, with an animal etched on the golden plate.

"A lion?"

"It's the Rizayan symbol," Jane replies. Her fingers brush Maura's neck and seemingly set it ablaze as she sweeps her golden hair to the side. Then she takes the necklace, and fastens it around Maura's neck. "And don't ask why. You'll know when we get there."

Jane sits, and Maura turns slightly to face her—her fingers coming up to toy with the stone around her neck. "How does it look?"

Jane gives a lopsided grin, making her look much younger and much less fierce than she like to portray herself. "Like it was made for you."

"Thank you," Maura beams, a slight flush spreading across her face. For some reason inexplainable, she can't help the way compliments from Jane bring forth such a visceral reaction.

Jane's fingers graze the fabric over her knee. "Can you promise me something?"

She takes a deep breath at the somber expression on Jane's face. "I can try."

Jane reaches out and rolls the sapphire stone between her fingers, still holding onto it as she looks up to Maura's face. "Don't ever take this off. For _anyone_."

Her brow furrows. "But there are sapphire mines in nearly every kingdom. Surely it can be replaced."

"But this," Jane starts, letting it lightly fall back against Maura's chest. "Is worth more than you think. It's no ordinary necklace."

She looks down to it. Granted, it's large, but looks like any other sapphire she had come across before. But if Jane said it was unique…she won't argue it at this juncture.

"I'll be sure to keep it on then," she finally replies, glad that Jane's eyes soften at the promise. "Do you know how long until we arrive at Faraha?"

"Three weeks. More if we run into trouble." Jane smirks, and kicks her feet up on the table. "And I always run into trouble."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Your responses have blown me away! Thank you so much. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

After finishing her meal with Jane, who really likes to joke and tease more than Maura had expected, she had went back to her tent to learn their dialect from Rileta. She had picked it up quicker than she had expected—which was fortunate since the girl had laughed at every mispronunciation in good jest—and by the time the sun had started to set she could easily make out most of what Rileta was saying.

"What's the word fo—"

She's interrupted by the loud snap of the tent door opening as Jane walks in—sweaty and wild hair everywhere—and her eyes involuntarily and slowly roam up and down Jane's body. Somehow in the dim firelight, her tanned body looks more muscular…stronger even.

She licks her lips—very indiscreetly—and Jane smirks before holding up a hand to bowing Rileta. "Pack her things as quick as you can," Jane says, her face a mask and not at all as gentle as when she looks at Maura. "Almost all of the tents are already down. We're leaving soon."

"Pack? The sun has just set," Maura says, standing from her spot on the bed.

"The water we got in Vatra won't last if we travel during the day. It's too hot," Jane quietly remarks so the girl doesn't hear them. No need to cause unnecessary panic.

She walks up closer to Jane and starts to follow her outside. "Did you travel at night on your way to receive me?"

"No," Jane says. "But we rode faster so it didn't take as long to get there."

Maura takes a moment to stand in the cool night wind as it hits her cheeks and lightly blows a few strands of her hair. It's definitely not as hot as the day…but within hours it will almost be unbearably cold for their thin clothes.

"We can't simply ride faster during the day instead?"

"We have more cargo now," Jane replies, winking as she gently grasps Maura's hand in her own. Maura squeezes her hand, and Jane, smiling, starts to walk them both towards the outskirts of where the camp was and where now all the people and their packed things are lined. "You'll ride with me so you can sleep. "

Raising an eyebrow, she looks up to the behemoth black horse before looking back towards Jane.

Jane grins. "You're not gonna fall off."

"I'd still prefer a bed," she mutters, but Jane hears and tries not to chuckle.

The saddle is fastened and Jane turns to pick her up, but she smacks her hands from her waist. "I'm no invalid, you know. I _can_ get on a horse by myself."

Jane laughs at the seriousness on her face and throws hands up in defense. "You sure are a snappy little thing."

"I'm not snappy," Maura snaps, struggling to climb up. But she finally does and settles in, looking down at Jane with a triumphant grin. "Or little."

"Look awfully little to me sitting up there all by yourself," Jane teases. "What do you weigh? A whole 115 pounds?"

Maura narrows her eyes. "116.8, _thank you_."

"So cheeky," is all Jane replies with, shaking her head as she walks back to the end of the caravan.

What seems like endless minutes later, Jane comes back with a thick blanket and tosses it up to Maura before climbing in the front of the saddle. "You ready?"

Maura drapes the blanket around her shoulders, and tries to scoot back so that she's not pressing so tightly against the warmth of Jane's back. She nods and clasps her fists on the blankets edge in an attempt to balance and hold on. "Yes, I believe so."

Jane sighs. "Do you actually _want_ to fall?"

"I—well, no."

In response, Jane then reaches behind her, patting and tugging until her hands find Maura's own and then pull them around her slender waist. Her fingers land on the warm, bare skin of Jane's stomach—Jane's abs hard and defined underneath her touch. She has to put conscious effort into keeping her hands exactly where they were put instead of roaming somewhere they were definitely not.

Jane pats her hands and then picks up the reins. "_Now_ you're ready," she says as they finally start to leave. "I don't want you falling on that pretty face of yours."

She picks up on the teasing and pinches the skin beneath her fingers until Jane squirms. "I would've been sure to pull you down with me."

"That's _so _courteous of you," Jane retorts, biting back a laugh. "You may just turn out to be one of us yet."

She smiles to herself. Being accepted—despite it being to a group she had first thought to have nothing in common with—makes her heart seemingly soar in her chest. It's a feeling that she's never once, not even with those deemed _like her_, ever felt.

She tentatively leans forward and rests her forehead against Jane. Jane doesn't tense, doesn't say anything about it really—only reaches up to squeeze Maura's hand in acknowledgment— so she relaxes into it; pressing her cheek fully to lean on Jane's back.

"Tell me something about yourself," she says, the lull of the horses gait making her sleepier than she should be at this hour.

Jane looks around them to make sure the torch-carriers riding beside of them are out of earshot. No need for anyone to hear her going soft.

"Well...I have a mother and two brothers."

She grins as she pictures Jane as a child, surely running around and playing with her siblings. That's an experience that, unfortunately, Maura was never granted to have. Perhaps having someone like herself around to talk with would've made things easier for her…but there's no reason to conjure up silly what-ifs now.

"What are their names?"

"Angela, Tomas, and Francesco."

Her head tilts, confused. "Those don't sound very Rizayan."

"My ma was obsessed with Darmuth for a while. She liked their food and named them after famous cooks," she laughs. "But don't bring it up. Francesco is touchy about it."

"Bad temper?"

"Whiney temper is more like it," Jane says, a hint of smile in her voice. "Loyal, though."

"And Tomas?"

Jane shrugs. "I haven't seen him in a while. He's probably gotten himself in trouble again."

Realizing it's a touchy subject, she chooses not to reply. The silence lingers and Jane finally clears her throat. "What about you? Anything you'd like to share?"

She ever so slightly tightens her grip on Jane's waist—the toned abs flexing underneath her hands with every sway of the horses gait. "What would you like to know?"

"Your favorite color, your favorite food...anything. _Everything_," Jane says, before clearing her throat and lightening up her tone. "You're going to be stuck with me for a while, after all."

She smiles against Jane's back at the accidently openness. "My favorite color is red, although I'm not sure why I have a preference towards it. I like to eat spiced plums—

"-and drink wine," Jane interrupts, a smile obvious in her voice. "Lots of wine."

She laughs softly. "Yes, I do enjoy wine."

"Do you like beer?"

She recalls the watered down ale she had first tried when she was no more than twelve. It smelled putrid and tasted even worse after it had passed her lips.

Her nose scrunches. "Not really, no."

"Well you've never had our beer," Jane says with a hint of pride in her voice. "You'll love it."

"Perhaps."

"Don't believe me?"

She smiles at the hint of teasing in Jane's voice. "Considering I've never liked any I've had before, there's a good chance I won't enjoy it in the least."

"But you've never had ours," Jane retorts. "Once you taste it…you'll be begging for more."

She rolls her eyes. "Are you always so crude?"

"Crude?" Jane faux gasps. "I was just talking about our beer!"

"Mhm," she hums playfully in reply.

There's a long silence where she's nearly sure Jane is done talking for the night and her eyes grow heavy; her cheek sticking to the leather of Jane's bandeau as the horse sways as they continue on. But Jane interrupts by clearing her throat.

"Do you miss it?

"Home? Yes," she replies truthfully. "A little."

Jane sighs. "I'm sorry."

The guilt is clear in Jane's voice, and Maura shakes her head. "Don't be. I may miss home, but I don't miss the people."

"Not even your parents?"

She's filled with guilt that feels so, very unwarranted considering how poor her relationship had been with them. "I know I probably should, but…"

She trails off and Jane reaches up, her thumb idly running across Maura's knuckles. "You don't have to talk about it."

"I know," she sighs. "It's just that….it's hard to miss someone that isn't missing you."

"I'm sure they—"

"They don't," she replies with finality. Because it's true and she knows it to be true. There's no need to try and fool herself.

"Well my ma will love you," Jane responds with a light laugh to lighten the mood. "She'll like having someone to fuss about."

"She can't fuss over you?"

"Gods no," Jane exclaims. "I don't wear dresses and I hate people nagging me about it."

She laughs. Never had she met a woman quite so complex and interesting as Jane.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Nothing's stopped you before."

She rolls her eyes. Jane has to be the most teasing flirt she had ever met.

"If you are defeated and don't give your life, what happens?"

Jane shakes her head. "I wouldn't stop without giving everything I had."

"_You_ may not," Maura starts, "but say another Amadi lost and still survived. What would happen to them?"

Jane looks to the torch carriers at their sides and then shakes her head. "Let's not talk about that right now. Aren't you tired?"

And at the mention, she instantly yawns. "Yes, it seems that I would benefit from some rest."

"Well why don't you sleep? Still afraid?" Jane asks, reaching down and squeezing Maura's knee. "I'm not gonna let you fall, Maura. Promise."

"I know."

She pauses.

"But maybe I just enjoy talking to you," she adds in as truthful of a whisper as she dares.

* * *

"_Maura?"_

She groans, clenching her eyes shut and tries to push herself more fully against the delightful warmth at her front.

"Maura?"

"Mmm," she groans. "Tired."

Forgetting where she is, she starts to shift to get more comfortable. Immediately, she teeters on the back of the horse and her eyes fly open at the sheer terror of the falling sensations. Her heart pounds in her chest as Jane reaches out last second to grab her arm and steady her.

"Easy there," Jane laughs, "It's too early to land on your face."

She takes a few deep breaths to calm herself and looks around. The dark sky is streaked with pinks and red, and the sun is nearly about to peek over the horizon. "How long was I asleep?"

"A couple of hours," Jane replies. "But don't worry. You can get back to your beauty sleep as soon as we stop."

"Good," she says, sitting straight up to stretch her back. "I'm not accustomed to sleeping in such a position."

Jane snorts.

Her eyebrow furrows. "What?"

"Nothing." Jane laughs as Maura pinches her arm. "Just another crude remark that a _lady_ like yourself shouldn't have to hear."

Her eyes roll almost involuntarily. "Jane."

"What? You make it easy," Jane replies, laughing despite being awake for so long.

They stop to set up a camp—slightly less elaborate than before due to exhaustion—and she isn't allowed to help. Merely stays in the shade of Jane's horse with a servant to fan her lest she get hot while everyone else works.

When it's done she goes into her tent that this time only has a bed. No need for a firepit when the temperatures would be brutally hot within hours. She lowers herself to the bed for a few hours of rest, but finds herself tossing and turning—wide awake and unable to shut off her brain.

She's used to being alone. In fact, her life was generally spent alone in libraries and alchemy shops she visited behind her parents' backs with the only exception being feasts and banquets she was required to go to. But she never felt this…lonely as she does lying in the bed by herself. And, oddly enough, it's not as comfortable as she was sleeping on a horse, pressed against Jane's back.

She finally gets up enough nerve to stand from the bed and walk across the already blazing hot sand to Jane's tent. She stands outside of it long moments—catching more than a few judgmental glances from guards—before finally deciding to step inside and cross to the bed. "Jane?"

There's a muffled groan from the lump on the bed as Jane rubs her eyes and forces herself to sit up. Her eyes slowly crack open and when she sees it's Maura, she attempts to scramble to her feet. "What's wrong? Did someth—"

"It's nothing," she interrupts, pressing a hand to Jane's shoulder so she sits back down on the bed. She worries her lip between her teeth and sighs as she looks into worried eyes. "I couldn't sleep."

Jane reaches out and grasps Maura's fingertips gently with her own. "What can I do?"

She knows the answer, but doesn't know how to say it. So she says nothing instead until she is forced to glance away from those concerned, brown eyes.

Jane gently squeezes her fingertips again until she looks back up. "Do you want to stay with me? Will that help?"

Sighing, she tentatively smiles. "May I?"

Jane laughs. "You don't even have to ask. Afraid my sheets aren't as nice as yours though."

She smiles at Jane's knack for taking the levity of something and making it seem simple. "That's okay."

"Or the padding."

"I don't mind."

"Or the—"

"Jane," she replies, reaching out with two fingers under the other woman's chin, her thumb lightly pressing into the cleft. "It's fine."

"Okay," Jane replies with a shy grin. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Jane waits for Maura to lie on one side of the bed before lying back on her own—Maura resting on her side facing away from Jane, and Jane lying to look straight up at the ceiling. Far enough apart to not be touching. Slow, awkward breathing fills the air between them until Jane finally reaches over and places her hand against Maura's hip. "Is this okay?"

Her voice is barely a whisper and Maura matches it. "Yes."

Braver now, Jane scoots closer until her front is lightly pressed against Maura's back. "And this?"

The heat of Jane's body feels like it's wrapping around her; threatening to swallow her whole. But it feels absolutely wonderful, unlike anything she's ever experienced.

She nods against the pillow. "Yes."

Jane finally wraps her arm completely around Maura , holding her tightly. Daresay, it's the first time Maura's been held since was a young child of no more than four—and even that wasn't by her own mother. She smiles to herself.

"And this?" Jane finally asks.

She places her arm on top of Jane's own—their fingers tangling and resting against her stomach. "I'm definitely not opposed."

Jane laughs, her breath lightly blowing a few wisps of Maura's hair. "But not completely sold?"

"No," she whispers, edging her way slightly back closer to Jane. "I'm sold. Very much so."

….


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Again, **_**wow **_**to the massive response. That's absolutely amazing. **

**This has been my favorite chapter to write so far, so I hope you enjoy it! **

* * *

Days went by—sleeping in Jane's embrace during the day and riding with Jane at night. Not because she was incapable of doing so herself, but because she genuinely enjoyed being around Jane. Her teasing. Her deep laugh that wracked her body and showed her teeth. The muscles that rippled under her skin as she sauntered in that indescribably powerful way. The way she could go from terrifyingly stern to a puddle of softness and warmth with just a glance Maura's way.

She learned that Jane enjoyed to laugh as much as she could with Maura in private because she couldn't anywhere else, lest she be deemed incompetent. That Jane liked to stroke Maura's hair as they were falling asleep because it reminded her of a woven silk blanket she had had so many years ago and was forced to throw out after some of her schoolmates had found out she still slept with it. That Jane liked to stare at her breasts when she thought Maura wasn't looking, and that Jane was true to her word about waiting to do anything until Maura was absolutely comfortable doing so.

She reaches out and lightly runs her finger down Jane's nose until it scrunches, the other woman sleepily reaching up to smack her fingers away. "Maura…stop that."

"It's cute," she teases.

Jane emits a low, sleepy growl. "Ugh. Do not let _anyone_ hear you calling me that."

Maura softly laughs. "Afraid they'll think you're going soft?"

Jane instantly rolls her eyes, blowing a strand of hair from her face. "I _am_ going soft thanks to you."

Maura laughs.

"I never think I really stood a chance," Jane starts, reaching out and poking one of Maura's dimples. "You and your doe-eyed curiosity pulling me in from the start."

"I do _not_ I have doe eyes," she replies, grinning. She props herself up on her elbow, her sleep-mussed hair curling around her face as she looks down at Jane. She looks so open, so vulnerable in these few moments between sleep and alertness. Besides a teasing Jane, this Jane was her second favorite to be around.

Jane starts to bury her face back into the pillow, but Maura clears her throat. "Why was it arranged to marry me?"

Groaning slightly, Jane forces her eyes to stay open as she rolls back to face her. "To keep you safe."

Her brow knits. "What?"

"They wanted someone that could keep you safe," Jane says, reaching up to push a strand of hair from Maura's lip that had gotten stuck there, "and _obviously_ I was the best choice."

She chooses to ignore Jane's attempt at humor and slightly shakes her head. "Why did they tell me it was to keep the peace?"

"She meant to keep the peace within the Rizayans so they wouldn't revolt against the foreigner they must now bow down to," she replies. "We want nothing to do with the Vatrans. We are richer than they are anyway."

Her forehead wrinkles. "So what did you get in return if you have no need for a monetary endowment?"

"A map."

Her eyebrow arches. "A map?"

"The only map of Faraha's gates," Jane starts, kicking the twisted blanket off her legs. "We don't need our weaknesses known."

With rumors of war and disruption spreading, it makes sense to do what's needed to be done to ensure protection. People had been arranged to marry for much less over the years—for money, to ensure an heir to be born with certain features, for trade agreements**.**

At least this was for the protection of thousands of people, instead of selfishness and trivial disputes.

"They also think marrying you will make me want to protect them," Jane interrupts her from her thoughts.

Her head tilts, brow wrinkling. "And you won't?"

Jane sighs—and Maura can hear a tinge of regret. Sympathy.

"Their battles aren't mine to fight, Maura."

Her face falls slightly despite her understanding. Jane is right. She can't forsake her own kingdom for one Maura had so clearly been told she is no longer a part of.

Jane reaches out and runs her thumbs across Maura's lip. "I'll keep _you_ safe though."

And despite only knowing Jane for a handful of days, she knows it to be true. It was an odd feeling, really, for Jane to already have her complete and utter trust already, but she does. Every single bit of it.

"I know you will," she smiles, before lying back against the down pillow.

Jane starts to sit up, pushing wild curls from her face. "What time is it?"

"After midday," she replies, rolling on her side towards Jane. "Do you think we could stay here for one more night?"

Jane's eyebrows shoot up. "I thought you were excited to get to Faraha?"

"I _am_," she replies, a whine only slightly evident in her voice. "But perhaps we can have a one day reprieve? Please?"

She gives her best pout, and Jane's face softens into a smile as she rolls her eyes. "Fine. But it was _my_ decision to stay, alright? It had nothing to do with those damned doe-eyes of yours."

"Mhmm," she hums with, daresay, the smuggest grin in her entire life. "Whatever you say, Jane."

* * *

The large fire is already crackling loudly in the middle of the large canopy when she finally makes her way inside to the feast they had prepared for the night. Jane sits at the main wooden chair and emits an air of strength and power, despite how lazily she's draped herself across the seat. It's like she doesn't even have to try and yet, people fear her all the same with her easy confidence and hard as steel gaze across the room.

Jane sits more upright when Maura walks to her; her face softening into a small grin. "Finally decide to join us?"

"Rileta said it was best to be late," she replies, "Although I'm not sure why."

"So everyone would watch you walk in," Jane says, pulling Maura until she's sitting on Jane's thighs. "It's not often we have someone so _cultured_ around."

She smiles in response to the grin on Jane's face, and then looks around self-consciously. This simple act of affection in front of a gathering would have been crass and surely would've garnered stern discipline where she was from.

"Don't worry," Jane speaks up, gently wrapping an arm around Maura's waist. "It would've been weird if you _hadn't_ sat here."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It would've meant you weren't comfortable being here," Jane replies, conscious of the possible ears around them. "And that wouldn't have gone over very well. For either of us."

And before she can inquire further, a woman many years older than she with a softness to her face walks up and holds out a silver platter covered in food. "For you, Enzana," she says in the foreign tongue, bowing slightly.

Maura takes it with a smile. "Thank you. It looks wonderful," she replies in the same language, smiling gratefully as she takes it from the weathered hands.

The woman hurriedly walks off, and she looks back at Jane. A very proud, and grinning Jane. "It's been, what? Less than two weeks and you already sound like _that_?" Jane laughs, "You could've told me you were a damn genius. I wouldn't have worried so much."

And as far as she knows, no one has ever worried about her. Not truly. She had never given them a reason to—always doing what was expected of her, when it was expected. But…she can't say that she resents the fact Jane _had_ worried that she would be unable to do what was expected.

It makes her feel wanted. Cared about.

Her eyes drop demurely from Jane's to hide her blush and a grin she's sure is far too wide for a sentence so simple.

The flickering, warm light from the fire catches the gold in Maura's hair. The light flecks in her eyes. Makes her skin glow vibrantly.

Boldly, Jane leans forward and kisses the soft skin of Maura's shoulder.

The brief graze of Jane's lips against her skin catches her off guard and she sucks in a trembling breath as she looks back up, her chest flushing instantly at the glint in Jane's eyes.

Jane grins and the reaction, and reaches down to pick up a puckered, red fruit from the tray. She holds it up to Maura's lips. "Here, try this."

Still slightly thrown off-kilter, her brow knits as she looks down to the fingers in front of her face. "What _is_ that?"

"It's good," Jane replies, moving it slightly closer to her mouth. "Open."

Her mouth parts just enough, but then her lips clamp down as soon as she feels Jane's fingers graze them. She makes sure to suck the sweet juice from Jane's fingers; her eyes never leaving the dark ones that widen in pleasant disbelief.

Smirking, she pulls back with a moan. "Mmm. It _is_ good."

"You've got a little bit," Jane uses her thumb to lightly rub at a nonexistent fleck on the corner of Maura's mouth, smiling. Two can play this game. "There. Got it."

Her eyes flick from Jane's own to her lips and, almost involuntarily, she starts to lean in to the electric pull that has seemingly hung between them from the moment they met. Her breathing slows and quickens all at once, and she can easily see Jane's pulse throbbing quickly in her neck. Anticipating this. Welcoming this. _Wanting_ this.

But then a drum beat steadily starts to thrum and lifts her from the trance. She looks away quickly as muscular women and men dressed in animal pelts pour into the canopy and circle the fire—their bodies covered in paints of red and green and blue.

"They aren't fancy dancers like you're used to, but—"

"They're beautiful," she interrupts in awe as she watches. "Look at the way they move. The way their musculature accentuates the movements. It's amazing."

"_You're_ amazing."

Maura rolls her eyes, trying to hide her grin as she looks back to Jane. "Has anyone ever told you that you're awfully trite to supposedly be such a ruthless person?"

"Well they have_ now_," Jane retorts at Maura's teasing. "See if I ever compliment you again."

* * *

"You are beautiful, Maura," Jane whispers, emboldened by the wine they had drank over the past hours. She reaches across the small space between them on the bed and grazes Maura's cheek with a feather light caress. "So beautiful."

Maura lazily walks her fingers up the dips and contours of Jane's abs. "And you…are exquisite. Simply exquisite. "

Jane laughs, her stomach tensing under Maura's touch. "I've been called many things, but I don't think that has ever been one of them."

"Well it should've been," she replies, her hand falling onto the bed between them. "You're so much more than you're made out to be. So complex."

Jane laughs. "And you aren't?"

"Maybe," she says, "But perhaps I'm just too weird to be understood."

"You _are_ weird," Jane smiles to make sure it isn't taken the wrong way. "But it's a good weird. I like it. And _I_ want to understand it."

She takes a shaky breath. This…she's never felt this before. Wanted. Desired. Blissfully content in doing nothing else but being someone else's presence.

Her fingertips graze Jane's lips; her heart pounding and breaths uneven.

"Me too," she murmurs, scooting closer to Jane. "I want you to understand me. _All _of me."

Then her lips press against Jane's, and all of those poems she had read throughout the years suddenly make sense.

It may be tentative; Jane may be holding back and letting her dictating the pace, but it feels like her breath has left her lungs and Jane is the only thing keeping her afloat. Like fire is scorching through her lips and skin in the best of ways. Like she's only been existing as a half and Jane is her whole, and everything now feels so entirely _right_ that she can't believe she's been content with a life that was obviously so wrong with out this in it.

Without_ Jane_ in it.

Jane doesn't even have to use her strength to roll them to where Maura is on her back. Her eyes are nearly black in the flickering flame light of the tent as she looks down upon her, and the muscles in her arms bulge as she holds herself up.

"Maura…" Her hand cups Maura's cheek. "Are you sure about this?"

Maura grasps Jane's biceps, her thumbs rubbing soft arcs across them. "Yes," she confirms, "I'm sure."

"It's not just the wine? You're not—"

Maura laughs, her hair splaying out on the pillow as she shakes her head. "No, Jane. It's not the wine. "

Their eyes lock; a silent beat.

"Okay," Jane finally murmurs, leaning down and pressing their lips softly together again. "Okay."

Jane leans down and her neck tilts as Jane starts to kiss under her jaw, down the column of her throat, across her collarbone. Her hand reaches up to lightly tangle in the wild, black curls and the smell of Jane lingers across her. Sandalwood. Undertones of burning wood from the firepit, a slight hint of sage, the heady, arousing light vestige of Jane's sweat.

Her legs bend and, unable to help it, a gasp tumbles from her lips as Jane lowers down fully upon her.

Then Jane starts to slide down her body, pushing up the soft silk of Maura's dress as she goes until it's bunched high around her waist. The cool night air hits her skin, but Jane's fingers leave a fire-hot trail in their wake. A dull throb pounds through her body as Jane kisses one side of her hip, then the other.

"What are you—oh, gods," she moans louder than she probably should have as Jane's mouth makes contact with her most intimate parts; parting her flesh and sending shivers up her spine.

Jane's hands wrap around her thighs and land on her hips; the sounds of Maura's panting gasps and moans, and the slicks sound of Jane's mouth against her are the only noises filling the room.

Not even minutes later—maybe mere seconds, she chances a glance downwards.

And the sight of the strong-willed and ruthless Jane between her legs doing the most deliciously soft and delightful things with her tongue is her undoing.

Her eyes clench, back arching as white-hot pleasure overtakes her body in the absolutely best of ways. Stronger than anything she's ever felt. _Better_ than anything she's ever felt.

The books she had read about this certainly did _not_ give it justice.

She finally relaxes back upon the bed, and Jane slowly works her way back up to look down upon her.

"That didn't take long," Jane smirks with a good-humored glint in her eyes.

Maura blushes crimson and glances off to a suddenly interesting footstool.

"You really haven't been with anyone before?"

Jane's voice is soft and concerned, the sound alone coaxing Maura to look back at her.

"They told you I hadn't been when the arrangement was made."

Jane shrugs. "Most people lie."

"I don't."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from someone like you," Jane replies, leaning down to kiss the tip of her nose. She pulls back with a grin. "And yes, that was a compliment."

She decorously grins. "Thank you."

Using only one hand to prop herself up, Jane idly starts to run her other hand up and down Maura's bare side. "Was it up to your expectations?" Jane smirks, "Feel free to stroke my ego. "

Her hands slide down Jane's spine, her fingers dipping under the edge of the leather to lightly scratch at her lower back. "But I'm sure I can find _something_ else to stroke right now."

Laughter wracks Jane's body. "Wow. You are something else."

She smugly grins. "Was that a compliment, too?"

"Yes," Jane snakes a hand up Maura's dress, her palm covering and squeezing her breast. "It definitely was."

She lightly gasps, and Jane's fingers continue kneading and massaging softly. "Wanna do it again? Maybe make it last a little longer?"

Lips parted, she quickly nods. "Please."

Jane leans down, her lips nearly touching Maura's neck when a load horn blows. Once, twice, three times. People start yelling and clamoring from their tents, and from the sound of it, it seems like this isn't a good thing.

Jane drops her head down against Maura's chest. "Damnit."

Her eyes widen in concern. "What's happening?"

Pushing herself up and off the bed quickly, Jane—with incredibly wild hair and stern eyes—points to Maura on the bed. "Don't leave this tent, Maura. The guards are outside, and you'll be safe in here. Do _not_ leave."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: You guys have been amazing. Wow. **

**Also, there's a slight mention of rape in here (one sentence). Nothing explicit, but I thought I'd give a heads up.**

**You've also caught up to everything I've written so far. Expect updates to come every other day now, rather than every day.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

There's yelling. Screaming taunts. Jane's voice booming over the rest every so often, followed by cheers of agreement. It sounds vicious; brutal. But the way that Jane's voice drops low in a horrifying way mysteriously makes her blood boil in something much more akin to desire than anger.

After growing tired of resting on the bed and replaying the events of earlier over and over until she honestly just can't without arousing herself, she starts pacing in Jane's tent. Her feet start to wear ruts in the sand from the monotonous path, but soon her curiosity gets the best of her. Just like she knew it probably would.

The guards say nothing to her as she pushes by them in her wrinkled tunic—how could they?—and makes her way to the huge encirclement at the edge of camp where the nearly over-powering commotion is coming from. Torches have been set about to light up the scene, and people crowd around the large opening in the middle where Jane and two others stand.

She pushes her way to the front of the crowd—the people too wired to even realize who she is—and only then does she see it.

See _him_.

A man staked to the ground by daggers through his hands.

Blood is pooling out and turning the white sand red. He's straining so hard just to not scream out that the vein in his neck is prominent even from where she stands. Sweat is beading up and trailing down his forehead in fear. Outright terror.

And she is absolutely horrified.

She tries to run forward to help him, but Jane catches her last second and pulls her back. "Don't touch him."

She tries to push forward again, though the crowd grows silent. "Jane—"

"Maura!" Jane exclaims, clearly pained by the agony in Maura's voice. She wraps her hands around Maura's shoulders and holds her at arm's length. "Stop it."

She looks back at the man; the way his arms are quaking with pain. "But he's injured!"

"You can't. You can't help him, Maura. They won't let you. You'd just as soon be staked down there beside him, and not even I could stop them," she whispers, pulling Maura's face to her chest as the two other men in the circle yell behind her. "Just promise not to look."

"Are you—"

"Don't look, Maura."

And before she can ask anything else, Jane pushes her back into the waiting arms of Rileta, who promptly starts to lead her back to Jane's tent and away from the suspicious eyes of the people that had been watching her.

She's guided to the chair, tear tracks drying down her cheeks. Death sentences were few and far between in Vatra, but when they did occur they were always performed quickly and hidden from the public eye.

It was certainly never…_encouraged_.

Nothing like what she had just witnessed.

So lost in thought, she doesn't even hear Rileta slip out and Jane slip in sometime later.

"Maura…" Jane's voice is tentative and soft, and breaks halfway through the word. Clearly worried.

Her head is slow to rise as Jane stands in front of her. "Did you kill him?"

"_I_ didn't kill him." Jane sighs at Maura's displeased look. The accusation on her face. She squats down in front of the chair so that she's looking up at Maura's face. "Do you think we are feared because we let criminals go?"

A sob hiccups through her. "No."

Jane reaches out to touch her knee; to soothe her, but she jerks away.

There's a severe pause; like the air is weighing heavily upon them.

"Maura," Jane finally tries again, but another tear escapes her eye. "Do you know what that man did?"

She imperceptibly shakes her head, whispers, "No," just loud enough for Jane to hear.

"He tried to rape Dine's daughter. She's eight," Jane assuages. "Do you want us to let rapists go? Let them come back and hurt other women? Hurt _you_?"

She doesn't answer because she doesn't have to. Jane knows she wouldn't want that. There's no way she _could_ want that.

Jane sighs as Maura pulls away from her touch again. "I know you're angry. But sometimes there are no good answers, Maura. I swore to protect my people, and that's what I do. Every day. Hard decisions have to be made."

Jane holds out a handkerchief and Maura takes it to dab at the corners of her eyes.

"You have a kind heart, Maura, and I lo—like that. A lot. But it won't keep you alive," Jane says, and the smallest smile grazes her lips when Maura doesn't flinch away from the touch on her knee. "But you don't have to change because _I'm _here to keep you alive. And it doesn't matter what I have to do, I _will _keep you safe. Even if it means you're mad at me every day…at least you'll still be here with me."

After a beat, she swallows down her emotions thickly and reaches out to take a weathered, tan hand. "Is that what happened to you?"

"What?" Jane asks, clearly thrown by the change in topic.

Her fingers lightly massage the nubs of scar tissue on Jane's palms. "What happened out there…did that happen to you?"

Jane pulls her hands back, her face hardening into an unreadable mask. "That's a story for a different day."

"Jane..." Her voice is soft and open. If there's anyone she feels comfortable talking to, it's Jane. She would do anything for Jane to feel the same way towards her too.

Taking a deep breath, Jane hesitantly rests her hands palm-up on Maura's thighs. She knows she can't deny Maura anything, and Maura knows it too.

"Yeah, it's what happened. These…they're the reason I am what I am. The Amadi."

"What happened?"

"I…I was pinned down to the ground by the last Amadi. I managed to get free."

Maura's fingers gently trace around the knotted flesh on Jane's left palm; afraid to interrupt lest Jane decides to go back into her tough façade before finishing.

"He was the first man I ever killed," Jane continues, her voice to the point of almost cracking. "With my stupid, broken hands."

"They aren't broken," the conviction is clear in her voice as she clamps Jane's hands in her own; makes solid eye contact with Jane to push away any doubt. "They are _not_. They're beautiful."

"They were then," Jane bolsters, remembering the way they—bloodied and horrifyingly painful— brought a grown man to his knees. "Now theses scars are a constant reminder of why I'm the Amadi. Keeps people in check when they see them, y'know? Guess it's a good thing."

If it hadn't have happened, she wouldn't be here at this very moment with Jane. So in a way, she's grateful. But at the same time…she can't imagine the pain that such a wound had caused. Torn skin. Nerves. Ligaments. Too painful to even fathom.

Her fingers still knead lightly at the raised flesh—completely at odds with the anger boiling inside her towards the man that's no longer alive.

"What was his name?"

Jane scoffs. "Does it matter?"

Then Jane is cupping her cheeks and kissing her roughly. Taking what she can, as quickly as she can. To convey that she's very much alive _now_ and, no, she doesn't ever want to talk about this again. To quell Maura's anger and worry; a plea for Maura to let this go and not think about it just like she, herself, no longer thinks about it.

Jane eases up moments later, only pressing superficial kisses to her lips until finally pulling back mere inches with a suddenly-timid smile on her face.

"I can do that now, right? Kiss you when I want to?"

"Yes," she confirms with a nod and a full smile. "As long as I can do the same in return."

Leaning up, she kisses Jane again—a kiss that feels full of _later_ and apology, rather than _now_ and the sweetness they had shared before. She frowns when Jane pulls back and starts to stroke her cheek with seriousness in her dark eyes.

"No one travels in the desert alone, Maura. More people are probably out there, but that man wouldn't say where," she softly says. "I don't want you to be scared, but I do want you to know what's happening."

Oddly, as unwarranted as they are, she can feel the tears prickling behind her eyes again.

She tries to blink them away. "Thank you for the honesty."

"I'm always going to be honest with you. But that means can't stay with you for the rest of the night. I want to but…I can't." Jane tilts her head in sympathy. "I have to be out there when there's a threat."

"Okay," she replies, hating the way her voice breaks. The way her throat starts to constrict. The way it gets harder to breathe as she fights away the tears.

"Hey, no. Don't cry," Jane starts, worry and compassion clear on her face as she gently wipes Maura's cheeks. "I'll be back in a few hours. You won't even know I'm gone."

"I'll notice," she says through a sob. "There'll be no petulant, irritable woman to placate."

Jane laughs at the attempted joke before her face softens. "I'm not _always _grumpy." She squeezes Maura's knee. "Are you actually going to listen and stay in here this time?"

She nods, already wringing her hands together.

"Good." Jane kisses her quickly on the crown of head as she stands. "I'll be back soon. Promise."

* * *

She spends hours upon hours of scanning through the few books she had managed to bring with her; learning about different herbs and concoctions to heal everything from a scrape to the most fatal wounds just to keep her mind off everything else.

Around midday, Jane finally stumbles into the tent and jerks her from her medicinally-focused mindset. She's pouring sweat and her skin is flushed from exertion; her knuckles scraped and covered in a layer of dried, crusted blood.

"Dare I ask?"

Jane shakes her head as she walks to the wash basin. "I'd rather you didn't."

Sighing, she closes the book and walks to where Jane stands. It isn't long before she can no longer watch Jane attempt to do this herself before she wrestles away the damp cloth from the other woman and wrings out the excess water to carefully dab at her hands.

Jane waits, rather patiently she thinks, for Maura to talk, but the words never come. She tentatively clears her throat.

"Are you mad?"

She finally shakes her head, looking back down to Jane's fingers. "I have no right to be. This is how you do things," she starts. "And from what I gather, this is how it's always been. So no, I'm not mad. I'm…adjusting."

"Okay. That's…that's good, right?"

Maura nods her consent before dropping the rag and looking back to Jane. "Can we go to bed?"

"Yeah," Jane smiles. "Whatever you want."

"I want to sleep. _Just_ sleep."

"Okay," Jane finally dares to reach out and lightly squeeze Maura's fingers. "We can do that."

The pillows are soft and the blankets are still cool, and the heat of Jane's body as it wraps around her is scorching hot. Burns every patch of her pale skin; tingles, even.

And she loves every single moment of it.

She reaches across the very small distance between them and pushes a black curl from Jane's face; waiting until she's right on the very precipice of sleep.

"I don't know what it is about you Jane," she whispers. "One night I'm struggling because being here with you is so…strange. And now? Now being _without _you is strange."

She nearly flinches when Jane's eyes crack open. "I know the feeling."

"Do you?"

"Yeah. I've never needed anyone before. Never been attached," she says, wistfully. "Then you show up and now I'm cuddling whenever I get the chance."

Jane squeezes her hip to drive across her point, and Maura laughs. "You _do_ like to cuddle."

The laughter dies down and she runs finger down the narrowest of Jane's nose. "Earlier—well, last night…that was…"

Panic flashes through dark eyes. "A mistake?"

"No. Definitely not," she reassures with a gentle press on Jane's hand. "Just…unexpected. In a good way. I'd…I'd like to do it again."

Jane tries to stifle a yawn. "Now?"

"No. When you aren't so tired."

Jane rubs at her eyes. "I can stay awake."

She breathes out a laugh. "As romantic as that offer is, I'm tired too."

Grinning, Jane leans forward and rests her forehead against Maura's chest; her hand drawing languid circles against Maura's hip. "Did all that reading wear you out? I thought you were a genius, Maura."

More like exhausting herself waiting for Jane to return. Safely and in one piece.

Leaning down, she kisses whatever part of Jane she can reach—relishing the feel of Jane in her arms again; Jane breathing against her, though it had only been less than half since they had been in a position nearly just like this.

"Something like that."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you all for being so wonderful! You're responses are so amazing.  
**

…

She wakes up to nothing but the cold bed linen beside her for the third night in a row. Jane had either been going to sleep after her and waking up before her, or not going to sleep in the same tent with her at all. Which it is, she isn't sure.

But she does know she doesn't particularly like either of those scenarios

Combing her fingers through her hair, she sits up with a terse smile as Rileta enters to help pack.

"Enzana," she greets with a slight bow.

She motions for her to rise. "Do you know where Jane may be?"

The woman fiddles with her fingers; her words drawn out slowly. "Amadi is…not in here."

Maura narrows her eyes suspiciously. "I can see that."

Rileta guiltily averts her eyes and starts to fold a blanket. "Perhaps another tent?"

Realizing that this conversation was obviously going to be of no help, Maura puts on fresh clothes and leaves in search of the other woman on her own. Most of the tents are already being disassembled, and she checks each of the few remaining ones until she hears hushed voices coming out of one at the very edge of the makeshift camp.

Boldly, she pushes through the flap to see Jane and several other people sitting around a small fire. Jane looks up with a scowl that, usually, is never directed towards Maura herself.

"What do you want?"

The question is more of a bark than anything, and Maura self-consciously takes a step back. "Can we talk for a moment?"

Jane looks around the tent at three of the solemn-faced men before looking back up at her with an even harder grimace. "I don't have time for you right now." Then she flicks her fingers towards the door before turning away from Maura. "Get out."

It feels like a slap to the face. Jane had never been so…_harsh_ to her in the past weeks. Had never looked at _her_ with that steely gaze and clenched jaw. Not even once.

In a state of confusion and hurt, she staggers back to her own tent with reddened cheeks. She doesn't recall doing anything wrong in the past few days. In fact, since the day Jane had come back bloodied and exhausted, Maura hadn't even seen her long enough to actually _do _anything wrong.

After packing, she's once again made to ride her own horse in just as many nights as she's woken up alone. It's not as strange now—the cold wind biting at her flesh without Jane's body to block it—but it certainly still isn't something she particularly enjoys.

She looks over to the other woman; at the way the faint light from the torches light up her dark skin that shows despite the frigidness around them, the way her hair lightly fans as they ride.

She's beautiful.

And even though Maura's confused, she can't think of her any other way.

She takes a shaky breath. "Jane…did I do something wrong?"

Jane silently pulls forward from the group, tilting her chin for Maura to follow. She looks back with a furrowed brow as they even surpass the only source of light and start walking through the darkness.

"Jane? What are you—"

"Maura," Jane interrupts. Her head drops slightly. "We can't."

Her breath hitches. "We can't do what?"

By the pale light casted down by the mood, Maura can see Jane sigh rather than hear it. "That stunt you pulled the other night? Trying to save that man?"

She nods in reply.

"That put us _both_ in danger," Jane starts, her jaw already clenching. "I can't have some northern girl, that I hardly even know, dictating what I do. It makes _me_ look incompetent. Weak."

"So I make you look bad?"

Jane scoffs. "That's loaded and you know it."

Her fingertips graze Jane's arm, and her voice is barely a whisper. "What can I do? To fix it?"

"Toughen up," Jane quickly replies in the same harsh way as before, pulling away from Maura's touch.

"But Jane—"

"I am the Amadi, Maura," her voice is just shy of a yell, and Maura recoils. "That means I command them, and I command _you_."

Her eyebrows rise despite the pain building in her chest. "_Command_ me?"

"If I can't keep you under control, then why the hell would they think I could keep them under control?"

It's like bucket of cold water has just been poured on her; reaching every crevice inside her. She should've known. This culture isn't as different as she had originally thought.

She bristles, squaring her shoulders and biting her lip to keep it from quivering. "I see."

"Don't think I don't feel bad about this, Maura," Jane finally replies, her voice much softer. "But this is how it has to be."

She hates the way her body betrays her as her voice cracks. "Can't you change it?"

"Change hundreds of years of our culture? Change the minds of thousands?" A humorless laugh escapes her lips. "I can't do that, Maura. No one could."

She stays silent, even when Jane subtly reaches over and squeezes her thigh.

"I'm sorry this can't be easy like it was. I enjoyed it," Jane starts, her hand still resting on Maura's leg. "And maybe…maybe I enjoyed it too much. Enjoyed the escape you gave me from being who I'm supposed to be."

Her head shakes in confusion. "I don't understand what you mean by that."

Jane sighs. "We can…you need to learn how to act when we aren't behind closed doors. No more begging for someone's life. Don't cry where people can see you. You have to," Jane's face scrunches and looks pained as she finishes, "do what I say _when_ I say it. They expect it."

"I'm not sure if I can do that, Jane," she says, blinking back involuntary tears. "I'm a horrible liar. Acting and pretending generally fall under that category."

Finally Jane looks over at her; her dark eyes prominent even in the lack of illumination. "You want to stay alive, Maura?" She nods. "Then you have to learn the rules of the game."

"What game is that?"

"How to survive."

Jane lets the words settle in and Maura, lost in thought, says nothing as they ride beside each other for long moments. The wind nips at her skin and she sucks in deeply, letting the icy air prick at her lungs.

"I didn't pick this for myself Maura," Jane finally says, her voice quiet so no one behind them can hear. "After I killed the last one...it was either do this or they were going to kill _me._ And the only way to stay alive now is to _keep_ doing this. There aren't many nice people where we are going, Maura. I'll tell you who you can trust, but there aren't many. Don't expect it to be."

Her brow wrinkles. "But I thought you said it was nicer than Vatra?"

Jane laughs a laugh even more humorless than before. "That's the thing: it is. But the people? Despite the money and where they are from, they are terrible. So you just have to learn how to play the game to make it. You want to make it?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Then toughen up." Jane's fingers gently touch her cheek before falling away; the hard façade already starting to form on her face. "Just remember, Maura, I'm on your side."

* * *

It's shortly after dawn when they arrive at the gates of Faraha. Made of thick rock and poured metal, they stretch wider, taller than any she had _ever_ seen. But they are nothing compared to what she sees on the inside.

The buildings are shockingly grand; gold roofing, stucco walls, and iron gated doors. The road is paved with oddly glazed brick so that it ensures a smoother surface. Fountains _everywhere._ Vendors on the sides of the street selling things she had never even _seen_ before. Grass of the purest green covering hills in the distance; jutted mountains capped with snow even farther behind that. Trees with flowers of pinks and reds and white are in clumps at every corner.

It's so beautiful; she doesn't understand how the inhabitants could possibly be as terrible as Jane had said.

People come outside and bow as the assembly rides through the heart of the city, only stopping once they arrive at the castle. It's black—contrasting with everything so light and picturesque around it. But even the protruding, stiff peaks capped with iron and the heavy gates made of the thickest metal are oddly breathtaking.

It reminds her of Jane in so many ways—the strength, the power, the fear she induces. The beauty.

They finally dismount and Jane leads her through the gates as everyone unloads their belongings. The inside is even more ornate with tapestries hanging from the impossibly high ceiling, the woven rugs, the statues and paintings that surely rivaled anything from her former home.

"Jane, why do you dress like _that_ when you live like _this_?"

Jane scoffs. "Well _that_ wasn't rude."

"Sorry," she shrugs, her lips turning up at the edges slightly. "But the question still stands."

Jane slows her pace so that they are now walking side by side; their feet lightly echoing off the marble floor. The smile that's lacking on her face is clearly present in her eyes. "Would you feel intimidated by someone in a silk dress?"

She grins at the image of Jane in a long, draped dress. "Not particularly, no."

"Exactly," Jane confirms. "The warriors don't dress up. It would be—"

"Jane! Is that her?"

"Oh gods, that voice," Jane sighs at the high pitched exclamation, her head dropping slightly as a woman comes to stand by them. Jane halfheartedly waves her hand between them. "This is my ma, Angela. Ma, Maura."

"What a wonderful introduction, Jane. One fit for the gods," Angela sarcastically chastises before turning back towards Maura. "I swear I taught that girl some manners, but she insists on running around here like a banshee."

Her head tilts. "I've seen Jane run many times and it isn't what I wouldn't characterize as banshee-like. She does the heel-to-toe quotient better than many of the sport runners I've seen, actually."

Angela pauses for a moment before bursting into a boisterous laugh. She stands stock-still as Angela nearly pinches her cheek. "I like her, Jane. Definitely better than the oth—"

"Ma!" Jane exclaims with an exasperated huff. "Don't."

But then Angela and Jane simultaneously realize the commotion they've made and, with widened eyes, start to look around; their gazes soon settling on a guard in the corner.

Angela instantly stiffens. "Let's take this somewhere else, shall we? The Green Room?"

"Yeah," Jane agrees with a terse nod. "You go ahead. I have something to do first."

Maura turns and watches Jane leave—the way her body is stiff and aware of her surroundings. Her hand on the knife strapped to her side. Much more on edge than she had been for the past three weeks.

Frowning only slightly before masking it, she turns back to Angela and gives a weak smile. "Lead the way."

* * *

Maura sits in a cushioned chair upholstered with deep blues and golds. Angela sits across from her in a chair much like it, and her light eyes scan over Maura's face; the way she twists her fingers. Spins around her mother's old ring.

"My Jane," Angela finally starts after the silence has loomed on, a grin grazing her lips. "She's stubborn. If you tell her no, she's guaranteed to do it anyway just to spite you. But she's good inside, Maura. One of the few good ones here."

Smoothing out invisible wrinkles in her dress, she nods. "Yes, she can be quite lovely when the mood strikes."

Angela's face is filled with sorrow and regret. She reaches over to pat Maura's knee once before pulling away. "I'm sorry you were brought here. You seem like such a nice girl."

Shaking her head, she looks out one of the arched windows to the grassy hills. "It's beautiful."

"And so is a Siren," Angela retorts. "Doesn't mean it should be trusted though, does it?"

Her brow furrows as she shifts in her chair. "No. I suppose not."

Angela looks around at the sound of footsteps and her next words come out in a rush. "Trust Jane. Even when you think she's wrong, trust her. She'll keep you alive, just like she's kept me and this whole family alive. She's better at this than we could ever hope to be."

"Wha—"

She stiffens as a servant appears at her side. "Can I get you anything, Enzana?"

Weakly, she smiles. "No, thank you. I'm afraid I'm exhausted from traveling all night."

"Well, of course you must be! And here I am keeping you awake!" Angela exclaims, patting her knees as she stands. "Come on, dear. I'll take you to your room."

It takes several minutes to get there; through winding staircases and inconspicuous passageways. For protection, Angela had said.

That had briefly put her off, until the door opens to a four poster bed with stacks of lavishly stitched pillows. A stone fireplace with a conduit that stretches to the ceiling. A sitting area. Shelves of books on the farthest wall. Paintings tastefully hung on the walls in thick chiseled frames.

It's much different than her simplistic, airily decorated room at Vatra.

But it still leaves her in awe.

"Feel free to change whatever you want. Jane never would let me dote on her, and I guess I got carried away," Angela laughs before, surprisingly, pulling her into a tight hug. "If you ever need to talk, Maura, you come talk to me. We're in this together now."

Tears spring to her eyes and she nods against the other woman's shoulder. "Thank you, Angela."

She waits until the other woman leaves before she sags down in one of the chairs by the fireplace and lets the tears fall freely. For what reason, exactly, she isn't sure and she doesn't feel like devising a guess.

She's reading a book on the unreasonably soft bed —a ridiculous one, really, about fantastical things that she never would've imagined reading about before—when there's a quiet knock on her door, followed by Jane hesitantly standing in the door way. "Can I come in?"

Closing the book, she gives a small grin. "Of course."

Jane saunters over and sits on edge of bed next to her legs; one of her rough hands lightly resting on Maura's shin. She doesn't look up. Doesn't make eye contact.

"I'm sorry about the last few days."

She sighs. "It's okay."

"It isn't," Jane replies. "But…it's how it has to be."

If she hears that one more time, she may literally scream. She bristles, shaking Jane's hand from her leg; her arms crossing. "Don't treat me like I'm a child, Jane. We have rules where I'm from, too, in case you've forgotten."

Jane scoffs and finally looks up with an unrecognizable expression.

"Would your Queen be killed for crying? For speaking out of turn? For laughing too loudly?"

Her head tilts. "Killed? Of course not. She would be reprimanded to th—"

"There aren't second chances here, Maura," Jane interrupts. "No reprimands. You're lucky I saved you after that last outburst." She pauses and sigh escapes her lips. "They wanted your head."

She gasps. "You said that was a joke!"

"_That_ was! But this," Jane dubiously shakes her head, her hand once again lands on Maura's leg to subconsciously rub small circles. "I was in gatherings every day trying to smooth it over. You may have rules where you are from, Maura, but I guarantee they are nowhere as harsh as this."

Her mouth is suddenly dry and she can't force any words to come out.

Jane scoots closer and runs her thumb on Maura's cheek. "I like being with you. Here, where no one is around? You can talk about anything with me. Do anything. You make me laugh. I haven't smiled this much since I was a child," she grins before letting it fall, "But out there? You can't._ I_ can't. This is me keeping you safe and I'm sorry I didn't tell you about any of this sooner."

Then Jane stands and starts to spread a thick blanket on the floor.

She watches in confusion until her voice finally comes back to her. "Jane, what are you doing?"

Jane looks up only briefly before going back to her task. "Going to sleep. We can sleep at night now, y'know."

"But…on the floor?"

Jane shrugs. "I thought you'd still be upset with me and I can't go to another room. It'd be suspicious since we are getting _married_ tomorrow."

She can't help the laugh that bubbles up at the way Jane playfully sings the word.

"Jane," she chides, inching to the far side of the bed and patting the space she had just vacated. "Don't be silly. Get up here."

They fall back into their same sleeping arrangement easily—Jane's arm draped over her waist, her breath tickling the hairs on the back of Maura's neck in the best of ways—and for the first time in the past few days, she doesn't feel so unhinged anymore. Doesn't feel so scared or worried. Not when the strongest person she has ever known is clinging onto her so tightly with the silent promise of protecting her at all costs.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry this update took longer than the others. I had company over the weekend, I got my first job (yay!), and it's midterm week at my university. **

**Thanks for being patient and thank you so much for all the wonderful responses. You guys are truly awesome. **

**Hope you enjoy! Note the rating. Skip the last part if it's not what you prefer to read. **

…

Maura starts to wake as fingers lightly brush though the hair at her temples. She opens her eyes to see Jane already dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed looking down at her with a small, tired grin.

"Sorry to wake you up, but…those pillows are too expensive for you to be drooling on."

She narrows her eyes as Jane starts to laugh. "I was doing no such thing."

Jane's laughter dies down and, pulling back her hand, she looks down at Maura with a revered, somber expression. Long moments tick by and the air around them seemingly turns serious and dense, and it's only intensified by Jane's heavy sigh.

"Remember what we talked about last night?"

She nods against the down pillow, suddenly more awake as a pang of anticipation runs through her. "Yes. I remember."

"No matter what I say or how I act," Jane starts, reaching out to brush down some of Maura's sleep mussed and wayward hair, "it's just for show."

Reassuringly, she gives a small smile. "I know, Jane."

"Don't forget," Jane leans down, softly kissing her forehead. "I'll see you soon?"

"Of course," she replies quietly before sitting up to prop herself on her elbows. "But is that what you're honestly going to be wearing? To a wedding ceremony?"

Jane walks towards the door in her leather outfit she had worn through the desert, only turning back towards Maura when she pauses in the frame. A mischievous grin and an arched eyebrow adorn her face. "What else would I wear?"

…..

Her stomach feels like it's in knots. Twisting and turning, nearly making her nauseous. Her knees feel weak and palms have already gone beyond the point of clamminess.

She hates not knowing what to expect.

Her family isn't here. The librarian she had befriended in Vatra, one of _only_ friends she had ever had, really, isn't here with her. She supposes she should feel upset about being so alone in an unfamiliar place with only a handful of faces she can easily recognize, but she isn't. Not upset, anyway.

Nervous, is more like it. Apprehensive. Maybe even a little terrified.

"You better top spinning that ring like that or you'll rub your skin raw!"

She turns her head towards the door at the near-shrill voice. "Angela," she grins in relief. "I'm glad you could make it on such short notice."

"Of course, dear, of course," Angela replies as she walks towards her to help Rileta push the jewels into her intricately woven braids. "I came as soon as I got the message. You said—_son of a_—that you needed help?"

Her head tilts, but is gently pushed back by another handmaiden as to not mess up her hair. "Not so much help as I need advice. Well, not even advice. More like…information?"

Angela rubs the prick on her finger. "I can do many things, Maura, but telepathy is not one of them."

Maura looks at her with a furrowed brow. "I never said that you were a visionary?"

"Never mind," Angela chuckles to herself with a flourish of her hand. "Just tell me what you need _information_ on, dear."

She inhales shakily. "I was…I was hoping you could tell me what to expect?"

Angela steps back, her face scrunching as she tries to help Rileta tighten the dress. "Expect from what?"

"The ceremony," she wheezes as the cords get pulled just a little too tightly. "No one has told me what to expect. I envisage it being much different than the ones from my own kingdom."

"Oh, it will be," Angela replies, matter-of-factly. "I remember going to a ceremony at Darmuth when I was about your age. It was absolutely gorgeous. Dresses and doves and flowers everywhere! I damn near cried as the vows were taken. I begged Jane to try and make today something like that. Something personal. But…well, you know how," she pauses as she looks at the other, less trustworthy women in the room, "_Jane_ is. I'm afraid the feast is the only noteworthy thing that will happen today."

Maura nods, even though she knows that _Jane_ is actually a euphemism for Faraha's views on how things should be done. She tilts her head; absentmindedly spinning the ring again. "There's a chance it will still be as beautiful as the wedding you witnessed."

Angela turns Maura to face the floor length mirror against the wall. "But it couldn't come close to how beautiful as you are today, honey," she responds in a motherly, doting way Maura had never once received before.

The jewel encrusted dress is made from deep burgundy, blues, and golds with tight, sheer lace sleeves that come down to her wrists. The front is deeply low cut, but still modest enough to be respectable—the sapphire necklace showcased front and center. The train flows out several feet behind her and pools elegantly as she stands.

It fits her in all the right spots perfectly. It's almost impossible to believe they had made this dress for her in just one day.

She reaches up and presses her fingers to her lips to stifle a gasp. The way she looks at this moment—this _dress_ is so much different than the ivory one she had spent hours dreaming about in her youth.

This is better.

_So_ much better.

"My Jane is going to love it," her hands rub up and down Maura's arms reassuringly, and a smile graces her lips. "Everyone will. They'd be idiots not to."

…

There is no priest. No maidens to precede her into the main throne room. No flowers. No doves and no trumpet men. No one escort to link arms with.

She's alone to walk in front of hundreds of judgmental eyes by herself.

She nervously brushes her hands down the front of her dress once in nervousness. Takes a deep, trembling breath as the heavy wooden doors are opened in front of her.

And then begins to walk towards her fate.

Noble men and women and children are standing, crowded as tightly as possible, against the walls in almost utter silence—save for a few gasps and murmurs of approval as she continues down the strip of marble that splices down the center of the room. Her hands are clasped in front of her and she keeps her chin held high, trying to keep her face from growing red with all the attention she's receiving. Only focusing on the one important thing in the room.

Jane.

Her back is turned so Maura can only see the ornately embellished cape that hangs from her shoulders and brushes the ground. Its colors match the ones on her own dress and she's almost afraid of what she'll find when Jane turns around. Surely Jane wouldn't wear the leather outfit from this morning under something as intricate and stunning as _that._

But Maura honestly wouldn't put it past her.

She finally arrives at the marbled steps in front of the two silver and gold thrones and stops immediately at Jane's side. Not moving, not speaking. Waiting.

There's a long, drawn out beat—where Maura tries not to blatantly stare at Jane's tamed curls and strong, sharp profile, but fails—until Jane turns to face her.

And it's definitely _not _the leather outfit.

It's crisp, deeply colored pants and a buttoned shirt with stitching that rivals any ceremony ensemble she had ever seen any patrician wear.

"You look…beautiful, Jane," she whispers solely for Jane to hear.

Jane struggles not to blush. "Yeah. Well. Don't get used to it."

Then Jane's serious façade falls back into place and her face hardens into something steely and harsh. She'd be alarmed had she not been told to expect it.

Jane's hands don't tremble, her eyes never waiver as she sets the heavy crown made of silver upon Maura's head. Her dark eyes are soft despite the harshness reflected on her face and, when Maura looks back on this moment, she'll remember the way Jane's lips had tweaked up in the smallest smile just for her.

"Just as I rule over this kingdom," Jane bellows, turning to the crowd of expectant faces with her hands locked on her hips. "I will rule over her. And just as I rule you_,_ _she_ will rule you only second to me. If you do not accept or consent this union, take a chance with your bravery and come contest me."

Moments tick by and no one steps forward. No one speaks up. Their loyalty to Jane and want for their own life overcomes their distrust of a fair-skinned foreigner by Jane's side.

Surprisingly, Jane's warm hand clasps her own and her brow knits as people slowly drop to their knees one by one in a silent acceptance of the union. No other words are spoke, no adjournment. Just the sound of knees hitting the stone floor.

Her brow knits and she looks down to their hands and back up to Jane's face.

"What are you doing?"

They begin to walk back down the marble center—everyone's heads bowing as they pass. "We can hold hands in public. We can touch. As long as you don't initiate it."

She tries to keep her eyebrows from rising. "In an effort to show your dominance over me?"

Getting to the main doors, a herald behind them announces the end of the incredibly short ceremony and the beginning of the feast that will last for hours. There's loud shuffling and voices as the people stand and start making their way to The Great Room behind Jane and herself.

Jane nods and squeezes her hand in a way that's more gentle than dominant. More sweet than assertive. "That's the general idea, yeah."

Her shoes tap against the stone floor as they walk. "So you can kiss me?"

Jane looks over at her with a grin. "If_ I_ wanted to."

"Don't you?" Maura asks, a smile coming over her own features.

"Yes." They turn a corner and Jane stops them. Her hand cups Maura's cheek and she leans forward, her lips pressing soundly against Maura's own.

Her thumb rubs against Maura's lip as she pulls back—the chatter of people behind them only getting louder as they get closer—but she stands still a moment longer to look into hazel eyes. "You look beautiful too, Maura. No one here or anywhere else could ever compare."

…..

The feast was long and rambunctious. Angela had said it would be the highlight of the night, and she was correct. It was much more memorable than the ten minute ceremony.

Four fights had broken out over a roasted goose—Jane said that was substantially less than usual—and the painted dancers danced for entertainment around the tables set with more foods and drinks and delicacies than she had been expecting.

Maura had sat by Jane's side at the head of the table, murmuring things every so often when she was intrigued by some custom she was unfamiliar with. Otherwise, she had merely watched the interactions and behaviors of the people in attendance—including the stoic and _very_ thirsty Jane.

But now, several hours later, she's tired of being quiet.

Her crown drops to stone floor of her bedroom with a heavy clank. The wine coursing through her has made her giddy and she laughs, reaching out to pinch the other woman's arm. "Jane!"

"You look better without it, don't you think?" Jane replies with a smirk. "I feel more like ourselves this way."

"You did look stunning today," she says as her fingers loosen the cape on Jane's shoulders. She staggers slightly with a giggle, but Jane reaches out and steadies her by the elbows. "But I prefer you in what you normally wear."

"Why's that?"

"It's just what I think of you wearing when I think of you," she replies with a coy grin. "The _outfit of a warrior_ if I recall correctly."

Jane's eyebrow teasingly rises. "So you think of me often?"

Maura tsks, her head shaking. "I didn't say that."

"But you meant it," Jane replies, falling against the edge of the bed to remove her shoes.

She rolls her eyes playfully. "Whatever you say, Jane."

"Don't," Jane tries and fails to look serious, "I mean absolutely _do not_ give me that passive attitude."

"Or what?" She asks, with a shimmy of her shoulders.

Jane grasps her waist and pulls so that she's standing between Jane's knees. "Or I'll have to be aggressive to make up for it."

"I don't think you have it in you, Jane," she quips, her fingers twisting in black curls to untame them. "I've made you quite the push-over lately."

Jane's forehead drops against her chest as she emits a low, muffled chuckle. "Ugh. I think you're right."

And to drive her point home, she pushes Jane away and turns so that her own back is to the other woman. "Unlace me."

"Well since you asked _so _nicely," Jane retorts, though her fingers are already unsteadily untying the knot to loosen the strings.

The laces come out one by one—deliberately slowly—and her breath hitches as Jane's roughened fingers slide down her bare spine as each inch of skin is revealed; causing goosebumps to form in their wake. She hears Jane moving around behind her, but before she can look, Jane is standing in front of her with a somber, but reverent gaze.

"Your eyes," Jane starts, her fingers running across Maura's perfectly arched eyebrow. "Sometimes they're as green as grass. Sometimes gold like straw. Sometimes it feels like they're looking right through me. Seeing the blood on my hands," she whispers, her hands dropping palm up as she looks down at them. "But…I don't mind. There's no one else I'd rather share that part of me with. I'm glad I found you, Maura."

Her brow wrinkles in wonderment. Jane could be soft sometimes, but never quite so…sappy.

"Exactly how intoxicated are you, Jane?"

"Enough," Jane responds, looking back up with a grin. Her finger trails down the ridge of Maura's nose. "But it doesn't make it any less true."

She rolls her eyes lightheartedly before reaching out to tangle Jane's fingers with her own. "I suppose I could've been promised to a worse spouse."

Jane laughs at that; her eyes crinkling at the corners as she all but forgets the harsh mask she has to wear during the day. "Since when did you start being funny?"

"Since you keep giving me red wine," she exclaims with a large grin, pinching Jane's bicep.

Jane flops back upon the bed, a smirk perpetually plastered on her face. "Well I may give it to you breakfast, lunch, and dinner if you keep doing _that_," she replies, nodding her chin in Maura's direction.

Her brow furrows. "Doing what?" Then she looks down and notices that the loosened laces have caused the dress to slacken in the front. More skin between her breasts is now showing than originally intended. Much more. "Oh."

"Yeah…_oh_," Jane laughs. But then Maura starts to slowly, deliberately so, push the dress off her shoulders and Jane isn't exactly laughing anymore. She clears her throat, involuntarily licking her lips as she sits up a little straighter. "Oh."

"Yes…_oh_," Maura quips, smirking. "Take off your shirt."

Jane's eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

"Just because you're expected to show dominance in public, does not mean you always get to display it in the bedroom," she rejoins in a raspy voice, the top of the dress now pooled at her waist. "So take off your shirt. _Now_."

Jane's eyes grow dark at the forcefulness of Maura's words. No one since her youth had ever attempted to encroach on her control.

But here was Maura, tipsy and naked from the waist up with dark eyes and curls loosely falling from her braids, giving _demands._

And Jane can't even pretend she hates it.

Jane fumbles slightly as she pulls the shirt off her head and drops it to the floor. Grinning, Maura slowly starts to push the dress down even further. "Now take off your pants."

Not to be outdone, Jane stalls with her fingers hooked in her pants. "Only married a few hours ago and you're already forgetting your manners. I'm not so sure I like this Maura. "

"Why?" Her eyebrow arches. "Because I'm acting like you so often do?"

Jane gasps. "Did you just call me rude?"

"Just," she hiccups and waves towards the now wrinkled pants. "Take them off. _Please_."

Jane laughs. "Okay, okay."

The pants are discarded and the dress is dropped to the ground and, enshrouded in nothing but the flickering light from the candles, the feeling shift into something more heavy. A little more serious.

Jane's eyes skim over Maura's alabaster skin, the nervous fidgeting of her hands. Her lips parted in anticipation.

Jane pats the space beside her on the bed, and holds out her other hand for Maura to take. "C'mere."

Maura maneuvers her way on the bed and lies on her back, her breath hitching slightly when Jane rolls over to hover above her. Their eyes lock—Jane's soft and brown and benevolent as she looks into Maura's darkened ones; trying to convey that even though they haven't known each other very long, how much Jane would do for her. Protect her. Care for her.

Jane leans down, kissing one of Maura's dimples before pulling back. "You're beautiful, Maura."

Jane's warm and slightly-sweet tasting mouth against her own stifles a groan as Jane rests all of her weight to one arm while the other travels between them to knead and massage at Maura's already pert breast. Her legs shift open unabashedly for Jane to drop down into; their skin already hot from the clothes they had been wearing and the summer heat.

Her body starts to move of its own accord and Jane's hand slowly moves lower; caressing each inch of skin she touches.

Jane pulls back, their mouths releasing with a slight pop. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," she nods quickly, cupping Jane's face to pull her down for another kiss. "Yes."

Jane's fingers dip further down and slowly, softly start to trail the length of her wet, wanting center—focusing on her apex until Maura starts to bucks up and into Jane. Jane smiles against her lips and those fingers slide lower and lower still.

"You're sure?"

"_Jane." _Her fingers claw into Jane's back in an attempt to pull her closer. "Yes."

It's a plea. A request. It's permission.

Jane slowly starts to push two fingers inside; groaning herself at the slight resistance she meets.

Maura quietly, but whole-heartedly cries out at the sensation of being utterly filled for the first time in her life. Filled and completed by a woman that, only a few short weeks ago, she was sure was going to break her and turn her world upside down horrendously.

But now there's nothing but Jane. Just filled and surrounded and completed by Jane in the absolute best of ways. Her sounds, her touch, her scent.

Jane starts gradually. So carefully. Reverently. Like what they're doing is delicate and one wrong move will break Maura beyond compare and there will be nothing left.

But Maura's fingers dig into Jane's back more firmly; her leg hooked over Jane's hip in a plea for more _right now._ A silent way of conveying that she isn't fragile, and she wants this, and this is more than okay.

Jane understands, even with no words spoken, she understands and starts to move into Maura just a little bit quicker, a little bit harder; Maura's fingers digging into her back tightening and loosening in a way that lets Maura set the pace. Lets her dictate what feels good and what she wants because, after all, Jane wants this to be good for her. Wants it to be an equal give and take, instead of just a _take, take, take_; wants to memorize everything Maura likes so she can do it over and over again.

Jane is surprised—her pace thrown completely off—when Maura's thigh comes between her own. A grunt is involuntarily wretched from her throat, and she looks down with a furrowed brow when Maura's hands rest on her hips instead of her back.

"This isn't just about me, Jane," she rasps, her hands starting to push and pull at Jane's hips.

Jane shakes her head. "It should be."

"It shouldn't," she replies, pushing her thigh up a little more firmly. "We're bound together now, aren't we? So shouldn't this be together, too?"

And Jane has no reply but to acquiesce.

It's heavy breathing and gasps and light moans and beads of sweat forming on their skin. Teasing, rubbing, Jane's thumb finding Maura's apex until she starts to pant; until Maura's eyes finally open to look up into Jane's in a forewarning of her own impending release.

"It's okay," Jane responds. "Come for me, Maura. I've got you."

It only takes a few more flicks of Jane's thumb until she tenses up; Jane's name quietly tumbling from her lips as she arches off the bed—her eyes shut and Jane's arms wrapped tightly around her. Holding her. Just like she said she would.

Light aftershocks wrack her body, Jane only moving against her mere seconds until she, too, collapses down against Maura's chest in exhausted pleasure. Their skin is slick and hot; their breathing ragged and labored as they come down.

She dares to wrap her arms around Jane's back—to hold her, to enjoy the full weight of Jane pressing down on her own. Jane, that's usually strong and stoic and harsh, now a weak and fatigued puddle of putty in her arms.

"Jane?"

"Hmm?" Jane responds, the hum muffled and vibrating against Maura's chest.

Her fingers start to sift through a tangled mass of black hair. "Do you think today went well?"

"No one died, so yeah. I'd say it went pretty good," Jane replies, before her brow knits. "Or maybe that's not so good…depends on what kind of entertainment you were expecting, I guess."

Grinning, she rolls her eyes. "No, I certainly didn't want anyone to die. I meant did _I_ do well?"

Jane stretches herself up to kiss her soundly on the lips. "They'll let you know when you don't do good, Maura," she responds. "So yeah, I'd say you did alright."

She picks up on the teasing lilt to Jane's voice and pinches her side. "Merely _alright_?"

"Yup. Just alright," Jane props her head up, giving a sideways grin. "Especially compared to the other things you can do."

Her eyebrow arches. "And may I ask what those other things are?"

Laughing, Jane kisses her once again. "I think you know."

…

**Frankie, Frost, etc will make an appearance soon! You guys are wonderful. Thank you for being so encouraging. **


	9. Chapter 9

Lying in front of the stone fireplace, Jane props against a pile of down pillows with a blanket haphazardly pooled around her bare waist. She looks so unguarded. Relaxed.

Perfectly content and free of the burdens that constantly weigh upon her shoulders that arise from leading a kingdom.

It's nights like these—with Jane so utterly _hers_—that Maura likes the most. There haven't been many over the past couple of weeks, but the few they've had together she's learned to cherish.

Jane's easily laughter and whispered confessions. The way Jane listened in rapt attention as Maura spoke of her wants, desires, and fears. How Jane had almost bashfully handed Maura one of the rarest flowers one night, just because she knew Maura would smile. The way Jane was soft and concerned and caring, and still so herself in the sarcastically playful way.

Yes, these were the nights she cherishes.

Walking over, she resumes her spot straddling Jane's hips and takes a grape from the tray on the hearth. Almost reverently, Jane reaches up and traces around one of Maura's nipples with her thumb.

She grins down at her. "You really can't help yourself, can you?"

Jane's other thumb comes up to caress her other breast.

"Nope," she replies, smiling. "You're beautiful."

Demurely, she looks away to pluck another grape. Jane is the only person that could make her blush in four words or less. Her fingers graze Jane's soft lips as she gently presses the sweet fruit to her mouth. Jane takes it and, tracing her thumb across that same smiling lip, Maura tilts her head.

"What about children?"

They had talked about many things, but this was a topic always avoided. Maybe not consciously, but it was. And now that they've almost been committed to each other for two months—a period of time which, in any other arranged marriage, would've been the time to try for the firstborn—the curiosity has been nagging at her incessantly.

Chewing, Jane's hands skim down to rest gently on the curve of Maura's hips. "Rizayan leaders don't have children."

Her eyebrows crease. "Why not?"

"Children are a weakness," Jane replies, taking a slow drawl from the pouch of alcohol beside them. "In times of war, your enemies will use them against you."

She tries to not look crestfallen. It's not that she wanted children right now. But she had at least hoped the option would be open lest they decided to choose it.

Rolling off Jane to lie on her side to face Jane, she pulls the blanket up to cover her cooling skin. "But what if I wanted children?"

Jane arches a brow and struggles not to break the feigned sternness. "I hope you're not asking to lie with a man, nohealani, because the answer is _no_."

Maura smiles back, reaching out to trace Jane's jaw. "Of course not! I was merely wondering."

Jane looks at her for a moment, her face unreadable. The silence is heavy between them, and then she finally reaches out and takes Maura's hand in her own. "How badly do you want one?"

"Why?"

Shrugging, Jane looks off into the distance. As if she couldn't be held to the words that would soon tumble out of her mouth if she wasn't looking into the hazel abyss of Maura's eyes.

"I could figure it out," she starts. "If you really wanted one."

Her fingers trace the sharp line of Jane's jaw softly enough to match her voice. "And how would you do that?"

Jane looks back to her and presses a soft kiss to her lips.

"For you…I would do anything," she leans back slightly at Maura's grin, and deflects by wagging her eyebrows. "We can even hide it upstairs."

She props herself up on her elbow to look down at her wife. "In the tower?"

"Yep," Jane nods. "Wouldn't it be perfect?"

Her smile slowly fades and her eyes drop to the small space between them as she finally catches on. "We really can't have children, can we?"

"No," Jane whispers, looking even more crestfallen than Maura had suspected she would. "But I would try if you wanted me to."

Solemnly, her head shakes. "It wouldn't end well."

"Maybe it would. Someday," Jane says, her face not reflecting the hopefulness of her words.

She softly scoffs. "It's never good to speculate about such things."

"I know."

And then Jane is rolling on top of her, their legs and breasts and stomachs pressed and sliding against each other. Their lips feverously clash, and it's like Jane is trying to make up for everything she's taken and everything she can't give Maura with that single kiss.

Jane's hands start moving lower and lower still. Down the swell of Maura's breasts, the ridges of her ribs, the smoothness of her sides. Her fingers giving the softest wisps of a caress.

She arches into the touch, trying to get Jane to where she needs her by sheer will. To get more and lower and _now._

But then there's a booming knock on the door and they both freeze instantly.

There's another knock, and Jane reaches out and closes her hand around the dagger beside them. "Who's there?"

There's a silent pause and then a scoff. "Who do you think it is, idiot?"

A smile breaks out on Jane's face and she quickly starts scrambling for her clothes, leaving a very confused Maura on the floor.

* * *

The hallway is dark, but she's instantly greeted by a dark haired male that she recognizes without the slightest bit of introduction.

Grinning, she holds out her hand. "Francesco?"

"Call me Frankie," he urges, giving a small shrug as he shakes her hand instead of the customary kiss she had been used to at home. "Just make sure no one else can hear ya, okay? I'd never hear the end of it."

"Of course. It wi—"

She's cut off by Jane finally coming out of their room and slugging her brother on the shoulder with a laugh. "Took you long enough."

"We're only a week late!" He exclaims with a scowl as he rubs his arm.

But the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears drowns out Jane's response.

There's a lion.

A _huge_ lion standing less than ten feet in front of her.

Moving as little as she can, she tugs the tips of Jane's fingers.

"Jane," she whispers, but there's no response. Her breathing becomes shallow and she tugs on Jane's hand even harder. "Jane!"

Sensing the fear, Jane's body stiffens and she looks around. "What's wrong?"

"T-there's a—that," she stammers, knowing her eyes are wider than they've ever been.

Jane turns and, unexpectedly, laughs when she sees it. Walking towards it, she roughly wraps her fingers in its mane and gives it a shake—looking over her shoulder to give Maura a grin. "Tiger won't hurt ya."

Still stricken with fear, she raises eyebrow. "Tiger?"

"Don't look at me," Jane shrugs and turns back to pat its head. "I didn't name him."

She honestly wouldn't put it past Jane to do such a thing. "Mhm."

Frankie nods. "Really. That thing is older than me and Janie combined. At least a hundred years old."

"Lions can't live that long," she replies, brow crinkled. "The average lifespan is 10-20 years."

Frankie skittishly looks at Jane and she gives another nonchalant shrug. "Well ours do."

She takes a small step forward, and only then can she tell its coat is nearly identical to the horse that was given to her. "Are silver animals common in Furaha?"

"You don't have any in Vatar?"

Tentatively, she reaches out and touches the animal's head before jerking her hand back. There have been too many stories of wild beasts claiming lives for her to be completely comfortable around him.

"No."

"You sure?" Jane asks, watching Maura take a few steps back.

She scowls. "I think I would know, Jane. I lived there my entire life."

"Oh," Jane stands, "Maybe you can go talk to Stan tomorrow."

"Stan?"

"The librarian. I'm sure he knows. Sate your desire for learning or something," Jane smiles and takes her hand, gently starting to walk her down the hall. "Anyway, come on. You need to meet everyone."

* * *

It is short, but the next part didn't flow with this at all. Sorry for the delay—who knew working at a pizza place was so tiring?—but I have this whole fic basically outlined. No worries. Thank you all for reading, once again!


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